Then to Now Part I: Sam and Page's Story
by holdeverysong
Summary: She came into his life in high school, and stuck with him in times that he didn't feel that he deserved anybody.  Follow Sam and Page from high school to present time.  SamXPage, DeanXPage mention of SamXJess and DeanXOFC.
1. Underneath This Smile

Autumn in Lawrence was absolutely unbelievable. I remember that even in high school, when most were completely indifferent to the bright, vibrant colors, I took them in and admired the leaves as they fell. Well, I had time, after that day, anyway. It had been a really bad day. One of those days that you wish you could just wipe from existence, or pretend they'd never happened. I'd been told that I was, and I quote, 'a bigger loser than the kids in the Science Club.' So, I had gone from the head cheerleader with a reputation in school that rivaled the queen's in England, to the one that people would laugh at, ridicule and throw full glasses of soda at. All for standing up for a kid that I felt, maybe, didn't deserve to be teased. High schoolers could be so fickle.

I saw him walking, down at the bottom of the hill. We always took the same route home, as he was my neighbor. Always had been--well, after his family's house burned. But we were both babies when it happened. So, ever since middle school, we'd taken the same route to get to school. But never together. Lord knows if we were seen together, it would kill my rep. He was Winchester the Weirdo, or Weirdchester, or any of the other names they came up with. Up until middle school, we'd been, at least somewhat close. Playing cops and robbers in his backyard and always going to one another's birthday parties. But of course, as everyone knows, things change when you change schools. I tried out for cheerleading, and made the squad, became the head, and we just…grew apart.

My friends always teased him. Sam had tried, really hard, constantly to fit in. Always wore stylish clothes, always tried to get into the cool clubs. But no one took him--aside from the basketball team, anyway. But that was only because he had undeniable talent when it came to basketball. The rest all laughed at him and came up with half-assed reasons why he couldn't and shouldn't be in their club. I didn't buy it. Sam was a nice guy. Really. Kind and friendly, and maybe just a bit lanky and awkward. And his brother and his dad were kinda odd, but oh well. I lived by the theory of 'to each their own,' and they hadn't really been to school to pick Sam up since that year, when we started ninth grade. That kinda struck me as odd, but it wasn't my place to ask questions.

Sometimes, I would see my so-called-friends teasing him, and it would really piss me off. Kinda brought me to the mind frame of 'what in the hell did he do to them, other than not live up to their standard of cool?' But I was so obsessed with fitting in, that I hadn't said anything. Until that day. They plotted a completely unnecessary prank on poor Sam, when he was walking into school. Something involving corn syrup and flour. That was all I needed to hear, though. As I saw him approaching, I put my foot down and told them to leave him alone, they called me a loser for defending him, and threatened my position among them if I didn't go along with it. I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. 'I've been going with your senseless, baseless pranks on Sam since seventh grade, mainly because I was scared you'd turn on me. Well, turn on me. Because this is really mean. And Sam has never done a thing to you.'

Well, they did turn on me. Told me that I was not allowed to hang around with them anymore, and if I did, I would suffer the same fate as Sam. So, I'd avoided them all day, and now I was walking home alone, rather than with my 'friends,' Tisha and Eleni. But I didn't care. I speed walked and caught up with Sam. "Hey Weir--I mean, Sam…" I called out to him as I got closer. I'd never called him by any of his cruel nicknames before, I just heard it so often that it was the first thing that leapt to mind to call him. "Can I talk to you?"

He whirled around when he heard my voice, and looked at me like he expected me to bare my fangs and eat him alive. Not that it was a completely unfair assessment. He saw that I had nothing in my hands, and no one with me, and nodded his head hesitantly. "Sure, Page…" he spoke in a voice so quiet, had I not been paying attention, I didn't think I would have heard him. "What can I do for you?"

I would have said that I wondered why he asked that, but I'd have been lying. Ever since sixth grade, the only way I'd talk to Sam was for help or answers to a test, since he was always so smart. He gave them to me, too, because I was the nicest out of my circle of friends to him. "No, it's what can I do for you, Sam. I know what my friends did to you this morning. I tried to stop them…" I said as I pointed to the hardened corn syrup that was making his hair form into a hardened mass. "But they wouldn't listen to me. I…feel like I owe you an apology for just standing idly by while they did these types of things to you all these years…"

Looking back on it now, I remember his voice cracking a little as he spoke. Puberty hit that poor boy hard. "It's okay, Page. I know you tried to stop them…I heard it. I don't blame you for backing down…" he spoke with shame in his voice. "But…you don't have to talk to me. I know they'll, like, throw stuff at you or whatever…" he started to turn around.

I put my hand on his arm and shook my head. "Sam, wait. I'm trying to tell you something, okay? They did boot me out of their group of friends. I…I'm not here to try to make you feel bad or anything. I just wanted to apologize to you, all right? No one deserves to be treated the way they treat you…" I told him with a shrug. He was always a nice guy. I didn't think it was fair that people kept treating him like the bottom of the barrel, just because his brother and his dad were different. "Anyway…I put it out there…I hope it helps you feel a little better," I said, then started to walk away. I didn't expect him to just, like, ask me to hang out with him or whatever. Not after all I'd sat aside and watched them do to him.

But as I got a little ways away, I heard the grass and leaves behind me crinkling a bit, and felt Sam's hand on my shoulder. I turned around and looked at him. "Wait. Page…thank you…" he said with a soft smile on his face. "Are you doing anything tonight? I mean…not that I actually think you'd want to, but…I have a bit of cash--maybe you'd want to go get some pizza?" he asked me in a shy tone, and I watched as a bit of red came to his face.

I grinned and nodded my head. "Sure. That sounds cool…" I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder a little farther. Go figure. I thought I was gonna have to spend my entire afternoon in my room by myself. But as far as I was concerned, this was a far better way to spend it.


	2. Down

I watched her as she walked away from me, her head practically hanging to her chest. The poor girl had gone through hell, just to defend me. Her stupid friends were completely undeserving of her. She was nice. And she was smart, too. They held her back, as far as I could see. She had always managed to keep herself on the honor roll, and I knew that the only reason she asked me for answers to tests, or to do someone's homework, was for her friends. I knew, deep down, that she was still the same Page who always used to say 'No, no, Sammy, I shot you in the knee so you wouldn't die, so don't play dead…' when we were playing cops and robbers. We'd had so much fun when we were younger. Playing games and throwing water balloons at Dean when he brought dates home.

But something had happened when we got out of middle school. She seemed to just, kind of float to a different group of friends, and leave me with, well, no one. I mean, sure, I understood that everyone our age wanted to hang out with the popular crowd. Hell, I had been trying since that day to get in with them. And I'm sure, had it been up to Page, I would have. But her friend Eleni and Eleni's boyfriend Todd made all the decisions for the group, and they pegged me as 'easy target' from seventh grade on. Meaning, no one wanted to hang around with me, in fear of being labeled a loser, too. I'd spent a few months in the chess club, before something went wrong there. Apparently, a threat from Todd, caused me to be kicked out of there, too.

But through all the hell that Todd and Eleni put me through, as far as I knew, Page was never involved. She wasn't raised like that, anyway. Her mother was sweet--when we moved into the double wide we were living in, next door to the Fabrizzio's house, she showed up with a giant cheesecake and invited us over for dinner. Page and I were babies then, but we played together in the playpen--and Mrs. Fabrizzio still had the pictures up on the wall. I remembered seeing them the last time I was at Page's house, when her mom invited me for supper when my dad and Dean were out doing their thing. Mrs. F. would do that sometimes, because on occasion, my dad and Dean would be out for weeks on end.

I had to admit, though, that while I was glad that Page approached me and started talking to me, I was a bit dubious of her intentions. At first, anyway. But when she said what she had to say and walked away, I realized that she meant it. So, I rushed up behind her. The way I saw it, if I let her go through the rest of high school alone (or until they came to their senses and asked her to come back to their group, at least), I was being just like them. I could at least offer for her to hang out. If she said no, I wouldn't be shocked. A little sad, maybe, but not shocked. I rushed up behind her and touched her shoulder. She turned around, and I cleared my throat. "Wait! Page…thank you…" I said softly, putting my hand in my pocket and blushing beet red. "Are you doing anything tonight? I mean…not that I actually think you'd want to, but…I have a bit of cash--maybe you'd want to go get some pizza?"

She grinned at me and nodded, running a hand through her hair. The grin then turned to that classic Page smile that hadn't changed, even since we were elementary schoolers. "Sure, that sounds cool," she spoke softly, shifting her book bag on her shoulder. "I just…need to drop my backpack off at my house so I'm not carrying it around and thinking about homework the whole time, if that's all right…" she said, continuing on the path toward our street, nodding for me to follow her.

I put my hands back in my pockets and walked alongside her. I was still sort of unsure of how to talk to her, since we hadn't really talked since the summer before seventh grade when she invited me to her pool party for her twelfth birthday party. So I simply walked beside her, and looked at her, waiting for her to say something. But she just stood there, staring at the ground with a really sad look on her face. Not that I could blame her. Going from queen of the school to outcast in one day must have been even harder than always being an outcast. "Hey, if you want my opinion? Which you probably don't?" I started as we turned onto the back trail that got us to our street faster. "I've always thought you were above them. I mean, you have a brain, and a heart too. You're…so much nicer and smarter..." I told her. Plus, she was far more beautiful. But I wasn't about to say that.

She looked up at me and smiled as wide and as genuinely as she could in this situation. "Thanks, Sam. I mean, it's really sweet of you to say, but if you think about it, being nice and smart, you know this better than anyone--it doesn't get you a seat at the cool table at lunch. I mean, if brains and personality were the determining factors of popularity? You'd be the Todd of the school…" she said to me, taking a large step to clear a giant puddle in the trail. "But if you're nice and smart, you get stepped on. I mean, I wish I could have stopped caring a long time ago. You know?" she looked off to the side of the trail. "But I was so obsessed that I just…changed everything about who I am--who I was, just to be in their clique."

It shocked me that she actually had the presence of mind to think of this, after all that she'd been through today, but I wasn't going to go against it. Because she was right. She deserved better friends than those idiots. "I know, but…" I tried to think of the best way to word this. There were a million wrong ways, and only one right one, and I still, even with my extensive vocabulary, had trouble finding it. "You're…better than them. I mean, you deserve better friends. People who will stick by you and, you know…treat you as you should be treated…" I swallowed hard and looked away from her. I knew she'd laugh at me, and I didn't want to see it.

But rather than being laughed off the face of the planet, I felt her touch my upper arm and roll up onto her tip-toes to kiss me on the cheek. I turned to look at her, and saw that she was smiling. "Thank you, Sam. Really. You're such a good person. Much better than anyone I used to hang around with…" she told me, nodding toward out houses. "I'll come to your place with you, so you can drop your stuff off, and then we can stop in at my place really quick. My mom would love to see you…"

I froze. Of all the years we were friends, playing in my backyard and all that, she had rarely ever been in my house, mainly because my dad was paranoid of her seeing all his hunting gear. But dad and Dean had been gone for a couple of weeks, so as far as I was concerned, Page could come in. If she asked any questions, I'd just…change the subject and tell her that the minimalist theme in my house was because I was the only one who was always home. "Sure. I need to grab a bit of cash from my room anyway…" I headed across the grass, Page close behind me, and into the back door of the double wide trailer we called home.

Page wasn't saying anything at all. And her expression, though confused, wasn't disgusted as I expected for it to be. Which was really cool of her. I was sure she remembered my dad being really weird, anyway. I opened the door to my room and went inside, noticing that Page was just staring down the hall, at the living room and all of the weaponry my dad had locked up. That was the only way he'd leave me alone, which I hated. It wasn't like these things were after me anyway. But trying to convince dad and Dean of that just led to some really harsh arguments, and usually left me going for a really long walk. I reached into the top drawer and pulled out twenty dollars of the money that my dad had left on the table when he and Dean left this time. Glancing toward the door, I saw that Page was looking around, and was still quite confused. "Forget how weird my dad is?"

She snapped to attention, looking me in the eye. "Oh. Um, yeah. Well, no. But I don't remember there being guns in a cabinet next to the couch…" she shrugged. "To each their own, I guess. So, where is your dad? And your brother?" she asked, brushing a hand through her hair. The last time we'd really…hung out…was before I was old enough to be left home alone, anyway. So, she didn't know. She had no clue.

I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders. "Business trip…" I told her simply, failing to mention that just yesterday, before they had gone, my dad and I had a blowout, and I'd woken up the next morning with no idea where they'd gone, simply an envelope containing six-hundred-dollars and a note from Dean that said nothing but 'about four weeks.' I assumed that meant how long they'd be gone, but…it was hard to tell, really, with how cryptic they could be at times. Still, I didn't have the chance to ask any questions, and even if I did, I wouldn't. "That's all I really know."

She nodded and showed me an uncomfortable glance. "Oh. I'm…sorry…" she bit her lip and looked at the floor. "Um…ready to go to my house?" she asked me, trying to bring some happiness back into the conversation. And I nodded, because I knew that if anyone could make me smile, it was Page's mom.


	3. Be My Escape

I brushed a hand through my hair and sighed. For the past three years, it had been the same thing. Sam and I walked to school together, sat together in every class (except for Mr. Oakland's chem class, where seats were assigned, and I was beside Eleni, while Sam was beside Todd…I swear, Oakland had it out for us) and hung out until I had to go home. It was almost like middle school, only we were older and more mature. But, I was freaked out. I didn't want it to change. I always knew that Sam was brilliant. Trying to say that he wasn't was like trying to say that NSYNC and Britney Spears were more than just a fad. And no, I wasn't going on an emo 'Sam is smarter than me' trip, because ever since we'd started hanging out again, my grades had gone up to the straight A's I always got before I started hanging around with the cool crowd.

But for months, I'd been focused on the fact that Sam had gotten his acceptance letter from Stanford, and I hadn't. And yeah, it bugged me. Not because of some selfish, evil, bratty, vindictive desire I had to always be the smartest person ever, but because I was scared. Scared to be alone. Or, at least, scared to be without Sam. It was a problem I'd never been faced with before. I'd never been alone. I'd always had someone to go to, someone to tell when situations like this arose. I was starting to freak out, really. Hearing news about my best friend moving halfway across the country…leaving me by my self to go to whatever college will take me? I didn't like it at all.

I mean, that's not to say I wouldn't be supportive. If Sam got in and I didn't? That was great for him. Maybe he just deserved it more. Well, actually, I knew he deserved it more. He was always so brilliant. But I just…wanted to go because I wanted to be…close to him. That night was prom night, and it was supposed to be a happy time, when Sam and I could pretend that we fit in, pretend that we were normal kids. I was supposed to be happy. Supposed to be giggling with my mother as she did my hair (even though she wasn't home quite yet), but my mind was focused on the fact that maybe, possibly, this would be one of the last nights that I would spend with my best friend. And maybe I didn't measure up. Maybe I wasn't…good enough.

I ran a hand through my hair and stared into the mirror. Part of me was wondering what had happened. Why I was so obsessed with being the smart girl when it was never what I'd been before. But, even before I was…whatever I was up until freshman year, I'd always managed to be smart. At least average. Maybe the switchover of friends was better for me. Maybe Sam was better for me. Without him, though, I wasn't sure if I could be…good at things. I felt tears forming in my eyes and I quickly wiped them away. I had to be happy. For Sam. At least tonight. Sure, I knew there was no 'prom king and queen, Sam Winchester and Page Fabrizzio' in the future, but we were going to hang out and dance, and have fun.

I looked at the dress in my closet and then back at the mirror, unzipping my bright blue hoodie and tossing it onto my bed. I clamped down tightly on my lower lip. "Just be happy, Page. You can do this. And besides, you have three hours. It's not like Sam's gonna show up and--" I paused as I heard a knock at my door. "Uh, who is it?" I asked, a little surprised, as I thought that no one else was home.

But I heard my mom's voice on the other side of the door, cheerily piping away. "Page sweetie, come downstairs. I want to talk to you for a minute…" she opened the door a crack.

I took a deep breath and looked at her. "Uh, I'll be down in a sec, mom…" I toward the bed and grabbed my hoodie, putting it on quickly. This was probably the lame birds and the bees speech, and God knows I didn't need to hear it. I swallowed hard and made my way to the stairs, and turned into the living room, I saw Sam sitting on the couch beside her. So, she was going to give both of us this talk? Oh God. "Mom, I don't think Sam needs to hear this, do you?"

Sam grinned at me and nodded toward the couch beside him. "Just have a seat," he said simply. The look on his face suggested that he knew something that I didn't, and I was starting to become really nervous and curious.

My mom walked out into the dining room for a second and then came back into the room, holding something behind her back. "Page, tonight is a really big night for you. Really big, a defining night if you will. Something that could change your life for--"

I scoffed and looked from my mom, to Sam, then back at my mom again. "You are so not giving me the birds and the bees talk in front of Sam, mom!" I shouted, watching as Sam bust out into a fit of laughter, and my mom giggled a little. "What's so damn funny?"

My mother flashed me a death glare for cursing, but let her anger give way quickly, which was strange, because I learned a long time ago never to swear in front of her. "This is not the birds and the bees talk, Page, hun. Just hear me out…" she knelt in front of me and put her hands on my knees. "As I was saying, tonight could change your life for the better or for the worse. For more reasons than you realize…" she told me with a small smile. "What I hold behind my back could totally alter what you do after this year, honey. Are you prepared to see it?"

I raised an eyebrow and, though uncertain, I nodded my head, watching as my mom brought an envelope out from behind her back. My eyes widened as I held my hand out to take it from her. 'Stanford University?' "Oh god…" I bit my lower lip and looked at Sam. I eagerly stuck my finger beneath the unopened flap of the envelope, only to feel Sam's hand on my arm. I looked at him and shook my head. "I can handle it, Sam. I promise…" I told him, feeling his arm wrap around my shoulders. I opened the letter and felt Sam's eyes peering over my shoulder as I read what was inside… "Dear Page Fabrizzio," I read aloud, so my mom could hear me. "We would first like to apologize for the delay in getting this letter to you, as there were problems with our mail carrier…blah, blah, call us when you receive this copy, blah…" I skipped a few more details. "Congratulations on your ACCEPTANCE TO STANFORD UNIVERSITY!" I practically squealed as I clutched the paper tightly in my hands, looking from my mom, to Sam, and then back at the letter again, staring at the word 'acceptance.' "I GOT IN!" I jumped from my seat, and threw my arms around my mother.

She smiled wide and clutched me tightly. "I knew you would, honey, I knew!" she pressed her lips to my cheek and looked me in the eye. "They'd have to have been fools to turn you down, with your transcripts. I am so…so proud of you, honey…" she nodded her head and ran her hand over my hair. "I can't even begin to tell you how proud I am of you, Page Marie."

"Me too…" Sam spoke from behind us. I turned around and looked at him, a smile on my face from ear to ear. I let go of my mom for a second and hugged him, too. "I'm so glad I don't have to go alone," he said softly, holding on to me tightly. "I…was really hoping you'd get in too…"

I hugged him tightly and started to cry against his shoulder, but these were not the same tears I'd held back while I was waiting for my mom, to start getting ready for prom. These were entirely different tears. Maybe not tears of joy, though they were pretty damned close. More like tears of relief. I was relieved that my best friend wasn't going to leave me. That I was going to go with him, halfway across the country, to go to school together. "Me too…"

My mom smiled wide and looked at her watch. "You know, I hate to ruin this for you. I really do. But, you two need to start getting ready for your prom. You don't wanna miss it, do you?"

Part of me wished I could just hug Sam forever, because I felt so good right then, but I knew that I needed to be at the prom. It was a moment I'd dreamed of since high school started, and I didn't want to miss it. I kissed Sam on the cheek and smiled at him. "I'll see you in a couple hours, huh, Sam?" I asked in a much happier tone.

Sam nodded and grinned at me. "I'll be here…" he promised me, running a hand over my hair and heading for the door.

Go figure. In five minutes, I'd gone from wanting to cry like a baby to wanting to jump for joy and scream from the rooftop. I looked at my mom. "Fix my hair?" I asked, watching as she nodded, then turned to go into the bathroom and get all of our hair supplies.


	4. Gardenia

What a relief. I couldn't hold back my smile as I crossed over Page's backyard to mine and headed into the house. So, we were going to go to college together, too. Oddly, four years ago, had you asked me if this would happen, I would have laughed at you and called you insane. But here I was, freshly eighteen years old, preparing for my prom and thinking about how I was going to college in California, with my best friend. It was unheard of for neighbors to both get acceptance letters to Stanford. Not even in those teen movies where everything goes right and Romeo marries Juliet. But Page and I? We were the exception to that rule. I got into my closet and pulled out the tux that Page and I had both agreed on. All black, including the shirt underneath…and, according to her, it 'contrasted perfectly with her white dress.' But I couldn't care less about that.

All I cared was that we were going to prom together. Forget all the awkward years I spent trying to change myself to impress her and her friends. Forget all the nights I spent alone, when my dad and Dean were out God knows where and I was twelve and thirteen, with nowhere to go. Forget all the nights I spent alone even when they were there. God, I had someone to turn to now. Page and I were going to school together. Going to the prom together. Had you asked me if this would have ever happened, yes, I would have laughed right in your face. I rushed to the bathroom and started getting ready to shower, hanging my tuxedo on the empty towel rack on the door.

When I thought about it, I owed her family a lot. Without them, I'd have been alone, all the time. Without Page's mom, I wouldn't have my driver's license now, but she taught me how to drive and sat with me during my test. Without Page's brother Dylan, I wouldn't have a car to drive. But Page paid her brother to fix up one of the junkers at the garage he worked at. Without Page's father, a lot of the time, I wouldn't eat. But he bought me food at times when dad forgot to leave me money, and they invited me over for supper at times, too. But Page; God, without her, not only would I not have a job, or a friend, or Christ…a social life to speak of. No, without Page, I wouldn't even have a strand of sanity to cling to, or the wherewithal to just get through an average day.

I took a deep breath and jumped into the shower, running my hands through my hair as the water pelted onto me. This was…amazing. This was what it was like to have people around who were there for you unconditionally. This was what it was like to feel loved. I chuckled lightly and finished the general shower things, then got out, wrapping a towel around my waist. T-minus one and one half hours. I dried off and walked over to the door, grabbing my tux. I tried to imagine in my head what Page and I would look like together. Her hair in one of those up do's girls always wore to the prom, in that dress that we chose (or she chose…I just gave approval). I couldn't help but grin. I was going to be at my senior prom with the most beautiful girl in school. What in the hell had happened?

I chuckled and took care of all the sanitary things one needed to do before a major event, then got dressed, and ran a comb through my hair. I opened the bathroom cabinet and looked through my dad's and Dean's colognes to find the right one. When I found one that smelled the least offensive, I sprayed a bit on, glanced in the mirror and deemed myself presentable, then headed toward my room to get the wrist corsage I bought for Page. A bundle of white gardenia blossoms, since she'd mentioned them being her favorite flowers. Rushing out the front door, I walked across my front lawn and onto Page's, then walked up to the door, ringing the doorbell.

Page's father, Danny, answered the door, and smiled at me. "Come on in, Sammy. Page is upstairs with Judie. They're still doing all that girly stuff. You know, getting ready…" he pointed me to the living room, where Dylan sat, giving me this grin. Like…he knew that something was going to happen that night.

I took a seat on the couch, and nervously fiddled with the case that the corsage was in. I looked from Danny to Dylan, who both smiled at me. I flashed a nervous smile in return, then looked at the TV. I heard Danny holler to Page, and my heart flipped around a bit. But when Danny took a seat beside me and smiled, I felt a little better. "So, you and Page are both going to Stanford, huh?" he asked with a smirk. "You know we thank you for turning her life around, right?"

I looked at him, a little surprised. "Um, I don't know what you mean…" I shrugged a little. I'd always felt a bit guilty, because Page seemed really happy in her group of friends, before they ditched her. "But thanks, all the same…"

Danny shook his head and clapped me on the shoulder. "Let's face it, Sammy. The group she was in before was changing her. Turning her into someone who cared more about what boys thought she was cute than her science midterm. You brought the real Page back. We owe you for that one…" he told me, and I was about to reply when I heard high heels clicking down the stairs, and I turned my head to peer around the corner.

Page…looked stunning. The dress was beautiful…the way it barely showed the tips of her toes in those strappy sandals she was wearing, and the lack of straps showed off the slight tan she'd gotten from our weekend at the lake the weekend prior. Her hair…was not in an up do. It fell down behind her in loose curls, and when she turned to look from her father to me, some of it fell over her left shoulder. I stood up and walked toward her. "Wow…you…you look…"

She smiled and reached up to touch my arm. "You too, Sam. Really…"

I lifted the corsage and held it out to her. "I, um…bought this for you…" I spoke in barely above a whisper. But God, she looked amazing. She looked like…something from TV, I swear. But she was real, and she was there.

She looked at the corsage and smiled. "Gardenias--Sam, thank you…" she bit her lower lip and held her hand out so I could put it on her. I did, and no sooner had my hand retracted, than I saw a flash from a camera. Page looked up and blushed. "Jeez, mom!" she scoffed and looked at her mother. "Can't you give us a second to get ready? Please?"

I chuckled and looked toward the door. "We should probably go, anyway. I mean, we have a little while, but we probably want to be there before everyone else gets there, right?" I asked, not wanting to mention to Page's parents that we might be the butt of a lot of practical jokes tonight. None of the kids in our school were smart enough to try anything Carrie style on us, but that didn't mean we wouldn't be teased. I saw Page's mom raise the camera again, and I put my arm around her, prompting her to look up. We both smiled and her mom snapped a picture.

And with that, Page quickly kissed both of her parents on the cheek and nodded toward the door. "Ready, Sam?"

I nodded, and we headed toward the door, getting the 'be careful' and 'don't stay out too late' schpiel, though they knew that we planned on hanging out at my place and watching movies that night anyway, after the dance was over. On our way out the door, Page grabbed her overnight bag and slung it over her shoulder. We rushed across the yard and got into my car, and I turned to look at her. "You really look beautiful, Page. I mean, I knew you were going to look good, but I didn't expect…this."

She laughed lightly and ran a hand through her hair, then tossed her bag into the backseat. "Thanks. Mom is a whiz with a makeup kit and a curling iron…I lucked out there, I think…" she half-smiled and watched as I started the car.

However, that was the last fun we had that night. After we went inside and had our picture taken together by a professional, our classmates arrived and saw fit to hurl whatever was being sold at the bake sale at us, while we danced together. Page's dress was ruined, her hair was a mess, her makeup was running, and when we tried to rush away, one of the heels on her sandals broke. My tux wasn't as wrecked, since it was black and not white, but still, when I'd tried to holler for them to stop, Todd decided to take it upon himself to shut me up with a fist to the face. We got up and rushed out of the school, back to my car, and didn't stop until we were on one of the back roads that led to our places. Page said not to go all the way home until the dance let out, because her mom would suspect, but as soon as I put it in park, she rolled the windows up, despite it being an unseasonably hot night, and started sobbing. "Sam, why do they do this to us?" she cried out. I went to answer her, but I think she just needed to talk, because she started shouting again. "Fuck, we're fucking awesome people. They just…they're too fucking absorbed in their shallow fucking sheep-like lives to care about anyone else. I don't fucking get it. I just wish…"

I bit my lip and finished her sentence for her. "You hadn't stuck up for me that day?" I asked. She gave me an indignant look, but I shook my head. "Let's face it, Page, that was how it started. It started freshman year when you told them to back off me. Do you wish you could go back?" I asked her, though I was afraid to know the answer. Looking over at her, even in her ruined makeup, hair and dress, she still looked beautiful. "Answer me honestly, too. If you could go back, would you still--"

"Of fucking course I would, Sam. Fuck, they're assholes…" she vigorously brushed an empty hand their way, and then looked back at me. "I would never change the fact that I stuck with you, Sam. Ever! Hell, you made me into the person I thought I'd be when I was little…nicer and…I'd like to think I'm smarter now, too. If I had stayed with them, would I be going to Stanford?"

I shook my head and shrugged. "But you also wouldn't be sitting in my car, covered in chocolate and in tears, when you're supposed to be having fun at the prom…" I looked out the window. Sure, her dad told me that I had brought Page back, and so had she, but I couldn't defeat the feeling that I'd hurt her by 'helping' her. I didn't call myself a prize friend, and I would never blame Page if she thought so, too.

She shook her head and reached across the center console and touched her hand to my face. "Sam, don't ever think that I regret a thing, okay? Even now, I still realize that you're a better friend than any of them could be. Listen, Sam. Let's just sit here for a little while, and then…go to your place, get cleaned up and watch some movies, okay?" she wiped her eyes, and I saw, out of the corner of my eye that the gardenia corsage that I'd bought her was untouched by the onslaught of chocolate and other baked goods that ruined her dress.

And that, even after all that happened? Made me smile, if only for a minute.


	5. Echo

So, we had gone off to Stanford. The first year was awkward, as first years often are. Being freshmen in a prestigious law school, though, definitely had it's perks. Especially when we were in California. Social lives and new friendships, but we still spent a majority our free time (whatever of it we got, anyway, with both of us in law classes and all) together. I even met a girl. Jessica Moore. I liked her, but I wasn't sure if she liked me. Page was working on finding out, and in trade, I was working on my friend, Bryon--asking him about Page and what he thought of her. Still, even with relationships coming into the picture, I knew things between us weren't going to change. Too much.

So, I owed it to her. I owed her the truth. Page and I had been through almost everything together over the past five years and two months, and I still couldn't tell her my secret, because I wasn't allowed. My father had sworn me to secrecy, and Dean had me convinced that no one would believe me if I told them, anyway. But, being on this road trip with her was the perfect time to say something. Because if she doubted me, what was the worst she could do? We were in my car, so she couldn't toss me out. But, what on Earth was the best way to tell your best friend that your family hunted spirits and demons, etcetera? There was no way, that was how. I sighed and glanced at the sign as we passed it…Providence, Rhode Island. We'd been on the road, on and off for seven days, stopping off and beaches here and there, and spent nights in the car to save money.

Page had no idea. She had no idea how much of a freak I was. She had no idea that my family were freaks. No idea what happened to my mom that night. No idea that when I was at home when I was little, my father had given me a gun to fend off the monster in my closet. She…had no idea. I looked over at her, as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, along to the AFI CD I'd bought her when we were in New York City. She was normal. She had a happy family. She had a relatively normal life, and didn't need me Winchestering it up. I swallowed hard and leaned my head against the window, staring at a street sign, listing off our next destination. Boston, Massachusetts, fifty miles Northwest.

There was an hour left I had to feel like this, before I could just get over it and…distract myself. But then what would I do the day after next, when we left Boston and headed to wherever we were going to next? I turned and looked at her, watching as she turned her head to look at me, and showed me this look of--such confusion. I swallowed hard and sighed deeply. If I didn't do this now, I wasn't sure if I was ever going to be able to. I breathed in deeply and cleared my throat. "Uh…Page?" I asked, reaching over to the stereo and turning it off. "We're best friends, thick and thin, no matter what, right?" I asked her, chewing on my lower lip some more. I knew the question would worry her a bit, but I needed to know the answer, before I said anything.

She raised an eyebrow and glanced at me quickly. "No matter what, yeah…" she nodded softly, running a hand through her hair, the placing it back on the steering wheel. "What's going on, Sam?" she asked, running a hand through her hair nervously. I was almost sure she'd figured it out. Well, not what was wrong, exactly, but that something was wrong, and that made me a bit nervous. "You've been acting weird since NYC, and you're starting to freak me out…"

I sighed and tried my hardest to think of the way to say this. "Yeah…" I cleared my throat and rubbed my forehead uncomfortably. "Um…I just wanna make sure…what if I told you something that's, like, not normal? Not the standard of--"

"Sam, are you telling me you're gay?" she asked with a slight smirk.

I scoffed. "No!" I crossed my arms and glared at her. "I am not telling you I'm gay, Page, okay?" I looked back to the window. "Never mind. This was a bad idea anyway…" I swallowed hard and put my head in my hands. God knows, even if I told her, she'd never believe me, anyway. Maybe I should have pretended I was gay. That probably would have been easier.

She shook her head and pulled over, since we were on a dead-ish strip of road in the middle of the night. "Sam. I was kidding, okay?" she asked, sighing a bit. "I don't think you're gay. What is going on?"

I sighed and glanced over at her, before leaning my head against the window again. Why did she have to pull over for it? Now I had to tell her. "All right…" I looked down at my hands. "Have you…ever, uh, y'know, wondered where my family goes on those long business trips? I mean…you know…" I hoped she'd say no, because wasn't sure what to say from there. But, of course, she nodded her head. What was I supposed to say? 'My family hunts demons and spirits and all those things, which, by the way, are real?' Yeah, that would go over well.

She raised an eyebrow and looked at me like I had three heads and one of them was baring fangs at her. I couldn't say I blamed her, but I never expected that look from her, and it sort of stung. "I have wondered, yeah. I just never asked because it's none of my business…" she looked out the window for a second, then back at me. "I've also always wondered about the guns all through your house and the weird inscriptions and…" she stopped. "I've always had questions, but never asked them. Now, though, I have to admit, my curiosity is piqued."

I sighed. Now, there was really no turning back. She was going to flip out and ditch me, and I was going to be alone again. I cleared my throat and moved some of my hair from my face. "Well…" I glanced at her, watching as curiosity and concern crossed her face. "…my dad hunts demons. Dean, too. They hunt spirits and demons and all kinds of things like that…there are…so--"

"Wait, what?" Page stared at me still, looking like one of my three heads had just split off from the others and started singing old Motown or something. "Demons? Spirits? Like…your dad is a Ghostbuster?" she asked, letting go of a loud laugh. "Sam, if you wanted to joke…" she shook her head and turned back to start the car again.

I shook my head and scoffed. "I'm not joking!" I shouted, watching as the laugh faded from her face. I couldn't expect her to believe me right off, though, so that was fine. Hell, I didn't expect her to believe me at all. "He travels the country and kills these things and--"

She stopped me mid-sentence. "Stop, Sam. Stop. You know I'm really open-minded when it comes to things like this. But I mean, really. You're expecting me to believe that your dad and your brother are like, modern day Ghostbusters? Hell, I would have even taken CIA operatives…" she looked indignant. And I couldn't blame her. "That's rich, Winchester. Real rich. If you wanted to lie to me, at least do better than that."

I scoffed and leaned my head against the window. "Of course I didn't expect you to believe it…" I whispered, not looking at her. I didn't want to see the look on her face. Why would I expect her to believe me, anyway? Sometimes, even I didn't believe me. I though, maybe, Page would be different. I sighed and closed my eyes, trying to get some sleep, so we could wake up in the morning and forget about all of this…


	6. Sway

I lay awake in the car, after pulling over by a toll booth on the Mass Pike, and sighed. I'd never disbelieved anything Sam had told me before, but this was…ridiculous. His dad was a fucking real life Ghostbuster? I knew that Winchester's had trouble telling the truth all the time, but this was something else. I ran a hand through my hair and leaned my head back against the seat. Truth be told, I had always wondered about Sam's family. Wondered if something was up there. I always thought it was negligent of them to constantly leave Sam with neighbors and friends. Sure, I loved the company when I was little. And even in high school, I liked going to his place, because there were no parental supervision and we could do whatever we wanted. But I always wondered.

There were times when I worried about Sam's physical being, too. I mean, I never said anything, or asked any questions, mainly because I was afraid of the repercussions. I was afraid that telling me would get him in trouble, and whatever was going on would get worse. I mean, if he was beaten, the bruises and shit were really well hidden. Whenever his dad was home, he'd always storm out of his house and come over to mine, freaking out and in tears of fury. And my mom would let him stay, because my family trusted and loved him about as much as they loved Dyl and I. But he'd always have to go back home, and I'd always start worrying about him again.

Sometimes, I felt like I birthed a teenager when I was a teenager. But, I adored Sam, so I wasn't going to complain too much about it. Still, this was one time that I really wished that he could be honest with me. We always talked about things of the…paranormal nature. And yeah, I believed in them. But because of this, part of me wondered if the only reason he ever asked me about my opinions on any of that was to test the water and see if I'd go for this 'dad and Dean hunt ghosts' thing. I mean, sure, there was a chance that he was telling the truth. And with Sam, when there was a chance, it was always a huge chance. Because he didn't lie. He just didn't tell the whole story. But Jesus Christ, it was a lot to swallow.

I glanced over at him. He wasn't sleeping, either. I knew that he was pretty bugged about this, too, and I had just made it worse by the way I'd acted. But, for the love of Christ, what did he expect? I hoped he didn't expect me to just…buy that. But…what if he did? What if he'd actually premeditated the lie that much? And…what if, like…it wasn't a lie? I mean, really, I was open minded, because if half of the shit that we as a species do from day to day was possible, anything was. But…my best friend was telling me that for my entire life, I had failed to notice that his father was a Ghostbuster. I sighed and thought about it for a second.

Leaning across the center console, I put my hand on Sam's arm. "Hey…" I watched him turn his attention toward me, a nervous and uncomfortable look on his face. "Listen…I don't know if your dad is, like, CIA or a Ghostbuster or whatever he is, all right? But I don't care, either. You're my best friend and there's nothing I wouldn't go through for you…" I promised. It was true. I'd go to hell and back for Sam. Do absolutely anything to make him happy.

He looked at me, a bit of concern on his face, but as I finished what I was saying, I think the concern faded, and he smiled a bit. "Thanks, Page. I needed to hear that…" he said softly, biting his lower lip nervously. "Can I ask you a question?" he looked at me nervously, then back out the window. "A serious question?" he paused, waiting for my answer. I nodded and raised an eyebrow at him, concern spreading across my face. "…you'll…you'll always be here, right? No matter what happens? I mean…I know you JUST said there was nothing you wouldn't go through for me, but--"

I cut him off and smiled. "Shut up, Sam. I'm here for you, okay? Everything and anything…" I promised him. "Seriously…no matter what happens? Hell or high water? You're stuck with me. You've been here for me through whatever has happened to me, and I…just…" I sighed, but not aloud. This whole Jess thing was hell for me. The only reason I wanted anything to do with Zach whatsoever was because, well, simply put, Sam and I had been at a party one of our friends were throwing. And we were both drunk. And one thing had led to another. And after that…one thing in my mind led to another. So, yes, the only reason I wanted Bryon was…because I couldn't have Sam. No matter how much I wished.

"I…thank you. Really. I just--" he paused and chuckled a bit. "Good night, Page…" he whispered, then smiled and nodded, rolling over in his seat.


	7. LiarLiar

Really, I had no clue whatsoever, what was happening. I'd spent the entire weekend worrying my fucking head off. Sam had just disappeared, and the only information that I got out of Jess about what had happened was that he went on a road trip with his brother to find his dad. It was really, really weird that he didn't tell me anything, either. I glanced from Jess to Bryon, a confused look on my face, and sighed. This was really...not like Sam. At all. He'd told Jess that he'd be back by Monday, sure. And it was...Sunday. And he'd left on Friday. So, it wasn't TOO weird. I sighed and stared at the window as we pulled up in front of Jess' apartment, dropping her off for the night. She hadn't wanted to be home alone, because she'd had a weird feeling that something was going to go wrong, but Bryon and I didn't have the space for her in our apartment, either. And I felt horrible for it. She was my friend, and I didn't want to leave her by herself, but what else was I supposed to do?

I hugged her and smiled a bit. "You know Sam as well as I do, Jess. You know he'll be home when he said he would. I bet you'll like, wake up tomorrow morning and he'll be laying right next to you," I tried to hide the pang of jealousy that was making it's way through me. But Christ, I wanted Sam more than anything in the world. Sometimes, I wish there was no Jess. Then there would be no Bryon, and Sam and I could—I stopped myself. Why did I torment myself like this? Honestly, my life would be a hell of a lot happier if I tried not to think about it.

She smiled and nodded her head. "I know, Page. I just...I don't know, I have a really bad feeling about this and--" she sighed and shook her head. "You're right. I know. I'm sorry. Just go ahead. Bryon is waiting for you and you guys probably have something planned..."

I felt sort of bad, because it sounded to me like she wanted me to stay. But, I couldn't do it. I couldn't sit there and listen to her talk about Sam the way she did. Not that it was bad, because she talked about what an amazing boyfriend he was, and how she was so glad to have him—all the things Sam deserved to have said about him. But, hearing them said by someone who wasn't me? No. I felt horrible for it. "We do..." I lied. "But you can call me if you need anything, okay? I'll come over as soon as I can, I promise..." I told her. She nodded and smiled, watching as I walked back around to the passenger's side of the car. "See you later, Jess..." I said with a wave.

She waved back...and that was the last time I ever saw Jessica Moore. I woke up to my phone ringing in the middle of the night, and I slowly went to pick it up, figuring that it was Jess, calling me to beg me to come to her house and stay. I sighed and flipped open the phone. "Yeah?" I asked, annoyance evident in my voice. Bryon looked over at me, clearly equally as annoyed, and I waved him off, dangling my legs over the edge of the bed.

But, when the person on the other end responded, my heart didn't fill with annoyance, as I thought it would. "Page?" a shaky voice called to me. It was Sam.

My eyes widened and I brought the phone into the other room, so not to wake Bryon up. "Sam? What's going on?" I asked, running a hand through my bed head. "Where have you been? Where are you? We're all so worried and Jess has been--" I heard Sam choking a sob on the other line, and even more concern fell across my face. "Sam...what's wrong?"

"J...Jess is..." he stopped.

I wasn't sure where he was going. Had Jess dumped him? "What happened, Sam...what'd Jess—"

He cut me off. "She...she's...Jess is..." he couldn't seem to come up with the last word, and I heard a shuffle for the phone and another male voice, this one much deeper than Sam's coming through the phone. "Page? This is Sam's brother Dean. Sam needs to...he needs to see you. Jess...is dead..."

My eyes widened and I nearly dropped the phone, and it was like someone stole the oxygen straight from my lungs. "I...tell him..." I tried to catch my breath. "T...tell him I'll be right there..." I said, hanging the phone up, grabbing the keys from the table, and not even bothering to wake Bryon up. I'd tell him tomorrow. I rushed out the door and to the car...and I don't think I had ever driven the five blocks it took to get to Sam and Jess' so fast. I don't remember inhaling or exhaling on the entire ride, either, but I must have, since I was still alive.

I got out of my car and stared at the scene before my eyes. The whole apartment complex was on fire, and people were trying to put it out. I searched the crowd of people for Sam, and saw, in the distance, he and another guy—I assumed it was Dean, but I hadn't seen him in so long that it was hard to tell—leaning on the hood of a 1967 Chevy Impala. I shoved through a group of people and rushed up to Sam. "I..." my words were drained from me, and even more so when Sam threw his arms around me, leaning down to burying his face in my shoulder. I wasn't sure what I could say in that position, anyway. Nothing I had to say would help him. I simply held him, and looked at Dean, who bit his lower lip and headed for the driver's seat of the car.

Sam looked at me with bleary eyes, and tried to catch his breath to speak. "I...I shouldn't have left..." he spoke softly. "I knew I shouldn't have left...I...I did this to her by not be--"

I stopped him. "Shut up. No you didn't. Sam...listen..." I moved some of his hair from his face and choked back tears of my own. "This...this isn't your--"

He shook his head and pushed away from me. "Page. I didn't call you here to have you make it go away, or whatever, okay? I called you here to say goodbye. Dean and I...we're--"

I looked up at him, taking a step toward him and taking a deep breath. "Goodbye? What do you mean goodbye?" I asked, bewilderment coming over my face. Where in the hell was he going? After this had happened? No. He wasn't going anywhere. He couldn't.

He took another step away and held his hand up, preventing me from saying anything else. "It's complicated. But Dean and I...we have some...business to attend to, okay? I--"

I felt a tear coming down my cheek, and I glared at him. "Complicated?! Complicated! You know what's fucking complicated?!" I stopped myself. No. Shut up, Page. Think about Sam. Think about what he needed and how he needed you to do this one thing for him, rather than always fucking thinking about yourself. "Fine. Fine...I..." I tried to think of what to say, and looked over my shoulder, hoping that something, anything back there would send me in the right direction. "How long...?" I asked him, wiping the tear away, and almost immediately feeling another coming down in it's wake.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I...don't know. But..." he paused. He wouldn't come close to me. "I...I'll call you. I...we just need to--"

I stopped him and took a couple steps away from him. "I...whatever, Sam. Just...just call me, okay? I..." I didn't say anything else, just turned and started to walk away. And as I passed a nearby car, I took a glance in the rear view mirror, to see Sam, getting into the passenger's seat of the Impala, and I stared as it took off. I choked a sob and wiped my eyes, taking a glance at Sam and Jess' apartment, or what was left of it, for the last time.


	8. Alone

I glanced into the rear view and saw her walking away, and I think my heart shattered into tiny pieces. Well, whatever was left of it, anyway. I remembered that I wasn't the only one losing someone here, and I reached into my pocket and grabbed my cell phone, dialing Page's number and biting my loser lip. Dean was shooting me a confused glance, but I waved him off and waited for her to answer. One ring, then two...then a third...then, "Come on, Page, pick up. Please..." I pleaded with her over the distance between us. I knew she was awake. Just...not answering her phone. I leaned my head back against the passenger's seat and shuddered a sob. 'Hi, you've reached Page...I'm probably doing something right now, but leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can...bye!' I heard Page's voice coming through the phone, and I gently hit my head against the seat, then closed the phone.

Dean glanced at me again. "Give her time, man...she'll call you..." he told me in a semi-comforting tone. But I knew that was the most comforting Dean got. "Sorry, man. But you know that she can't know about this and--"

I chuckled lightly and ran a hand over my hair, my face falling when my hand touched the spot where Jess' blood had hit me. "Funny thing that..." I glanced over at him, a grin forming on the corner of my mouth. Dean went deadpan and I shrugged my shoulders. "Well? Fuck me for having a conscience. I told her eons ago, anyway, Dean. And she doesn't even believe me, so you have nothing to worry about..." I stared out the window as we passed the campus, and sighed deeply. I was not in the mood to be belittled by Dean for telling my best friend a secret and defying our asshole father.

Dean was about to open his mouth and I took my phone from my pocket again, dialing Page's number. As if he knew how to handle women, anyway. Dude hadn't had a steady girlfriend in his life, probably. I listened to the five rings it took to go to Page's voice mail, then her message again, and came to the conclusion that she probably didn't want to talk to me. So, I left a message for if and when she changed her mind. "Page? Sam. I really...have nothing to say, okay? And I know I don't deserve the chance to say it, either. But, I mean...just call me, please. I know I wasn't the only one to lose someone and--" the timer cut me off. "Shit..."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam. Seriously, you lost your girlfriend, and not even a night has gone by and you're calling another woman? You say I'm bad? Give it a rest..." he crossed his arms.

I wanted to knock him in the teeth for even comparing me to him. But instead, I just reclined the seat and prepared to sleep for awhile. I'd fucked up so much over the past week, I just wanted it to be over with. I wanted to forget everything. Jess, Page, my mom, what I could have been had this shit not happened...I watched as Dean turned the music down and smiled a but to thank him, before closing my eyes and trying to nod off.

But after an hour of staring at the night sky as it flew by, I decided that I couldn't sleep. Not until I knew that Page didn't hate me. I pulled the seat back up and bit my lower lip, not wanting to call her in front of Dean. Fortunately, it wasn't something I'd need to worry about, because Dean pulled over in that moment, and looked at me. "Gotta take a leak?" he asked me, quite unceremoniously. I shook my head, and watched him get out of the car, making sure he was gone, then grabbing my phone. I pushed speed dial two, for Page, and listened to the rings.

One. Two. "Come on, Page..." I pleaded inwardly. Three. I pulled the phone from my ear and prepared to hang it up.

But as my hand touched the top to close it, I heard a very annoyed voice coming through the other end. "What?" Page asked. And it almost didn't sound like Page.

I quickly brought the phone back to my ear. "Page..." I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say to her. Was I supposed to tell her that everything was okay? And that my brother was trustworthy? No. That would be a lie. "Hi..." I started out simple.

She scoffed. "Hi? That's how you start off?" she asked, and I heard a door close behind her.

I sighed. "What in the hell am I supposed to say?" I asked, staring out the window at no one.

"I don't know, Sam. I really don't."

"I...didn't want to leave like this."

"Well, you sure as hell couldn't have expected a positive reaction..."

"I didn't know what to expect..."

A sigh on her end, and a few seconds of silence, and I decided to try and clear the air. "Listen, I don't know when or how, but I know I'll be back, okay? And if you're not in California, I'll come to wherever you are and find you. First person I'll look for, I promise..." I told her. "Just...please, promise me you're not going to hate me..." I felt tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. If I lost the two most important people in my life in one night, there was no telling what I'd do.

She was silent for another second, and she sighed heavily once again. "I couldn't hate you if I wanted to, Sam. You know that," she said gently. "You...still promise to call me?" she sounded hopeless.

I nodded, then realized that I was on the phone, and that wouldn't work. "Of course. I'll send you letters, too. From every state we pass through."

I heard a bit of a smile in her voice, though it was very forced. "Where, exactly, are you going, anyway?"

I thought for a second, of the best way to tell her this. "I...don't know. I mean, Dean knows better than I do, but...I promise, I'll call you once every couple days, and I'll write you all the time, okay?" I swallowed hard.

"Okay. And I'll...send Jess' parents your love..."

"Thanks, Page..." I felt a sob in my throat. "Really..."

I heard her swallow something. "Bye, Sam..."

"Bye, Page..." I said, and for the first time in my life, I felt like it might actually be for real.

Dean made his way back to the car, just in time to see me close my phone, and part of me thought that it may have been on purpose. "You get to talk to her?"

"Yeah..." I said simply.

"Feel better?" he asked me.

"About as good as I can feel right now..." I shrugged and leaned back in my seat, preparing to try to sleep, once again.


	9. Devil Inside

I passed over the border into Lawrence, Kansas, wondering how my parents would react when I walked up the driveway without Sam or Bryon. Yes, without Bryon. Bryon couldn't handle the fact that after Sam left, I went into mope mode, and I always leapt for the phone when he called. Jealousy, seemingly, coursed through him, and it wasn't a very flattering look on him. So, we decided that before we left campus for the summer, we'd call it quits. Well, we'd said 'see other people,' but everyone knows that 'see other people' means that it's over. I sighed a bit. The neighbors were all going to ask where Sam was, all going to be wondering why we weren't attached at the hip as usual, but I...couldn't tell them. I didn't want to deal with all of the...God, I just couldn't do it. Hearing my mom would be bad enough.

I got close to my place, and noticed that there were red and blue flashing lights all over the place. Concern and shock came over me, as I noticed that they were all concentrated around my house. I got out of my car and rushed up into a crowd of people, my eyes widened with worry. Police officers. Firemen. Detectives. And a...negotiator? Why was there a negotiator outside of my house? "Wh—what's going on here?" I asked, noticing that one of my neighbors, an old woman named Ida Long, glanced at me, worry and sadness spreading across her features. I didn't know what all of this was about, but...I was really starting to freak out. "Ida...what happened?"

She glanced at me, and a the sadness that had been on her face before. "Oh, baby..." she cried out, walking to me about as fast as her little old legs would carry her, and hugging me tightly. "Your mama and daddy been killed by your brother..."

My eyes widened, and my heart started beating out of control. "What?" I stared at Ida, like she was speaking a foreign language. "What? No way. Dyl...wouldn't do that..." I watched as one of the negotiators seemed to be speaking on the phone with someone. "What about...Dylan...is he...is he...d--" I wasn't sure if it had sunk in. And...it couldn't be true, so, maybe Ida didn't have her facts straight.

"No, baby...he hasn't come out yet..." she touched my face and showed me a sympathetic eye. "And he ain't lettin' no one in, either..." she frowned.

I bit my lower lip and looked at her. "Thank you, Ida..." I let her go and walked up to the negotiator and two cops, reaching into my pocket for my ID on my way there. "Hey..." I snapped my fingers when he hung up the phone. "Page Fabrizzio. I'm Judie and Danny's daughter," I held my ID up for them to take. "What's going on here...?" I asked, a worried expression on my face.

One of the negotiators took my ID and glanced it over, handing it to a cop, probably having him check to be sure it was legit. "We'll have to wait until Officer Hastings comes back with your ID before we can disclose that..." he said, turning to the officer and taking a few steps away from me.

I glanced at my house, nervously, noting blood on one of...two of...no, three of the windows. Three? But...Dyl was still alive, right? So...what in the...? Before I had a chance to process another thought, one of the officers, Hastings, I remembered, came up to me and handed me my ID back. "Miss Fabrizzio, I...really hate to be the one to have to tell you this. But...your parents have been murdered..."

My eyes widened even more, and I felt tears playing at the corners, upon hearing that this was actually true. I felt my heart racing, and I looked at Officer Hastings, trying not to cry. "And...Dylan?"

He looked at the ground, then back up at me. "He has two children in there...a pair of neighbor girls, Darby and Emily Wallingford? And he isn't letting anyone in. We're going to use--"

I cut him off. "Have the negotiator call him and let me talk to him. No force necessary. I'll...get him to let me come in...he's my brother, after all..." I suggested. He was about to object, but I cut him off. "He's my brother. I can get through to him. I won't go in alone, I swear..."

He nodded hesitantly and turned to talk to the negotiator, holding an index finger up and telling me to wait. I watched the window, for any sign of movement, and saw a shadow walk past the window, distinctly male. That was Dylan. I knew it. I choked another sob, realizing that this meant that everything was true. I glanced back at the officer, and rather than him, the negotiator approached me with the phone to his ear. I heard him talking. "We have your sister Page here...she'd like to see you, Dylan."

I stared at him, hopefully, wiping my eyes of tears, and watching as he handed me the phone. He mouthed the words 'make sure you don't get sucked into going alone.' I nodded and took the phone. "Dyl? It's Page. How're you doing, bubba?" I asked him, trying to calm him down.

"Come in here. One officer and one only, or they both get it, got it?" he said simply and harshly, and after that the line went dead.

I looked at the negotiator and the officer. "I can only bring one officer with me...but he's going to let me go in..." I said, and watched as the negotiator headed back to a police truck. I figured he was probably going to come with me, which was good since I had no idea what I was supposed to say.

He approached with a bulletproof vest for me, and handed it to me. "Put this on. And take this..." he held a gun out, too.

I nervously obeyed the command given, and followed him to the front door. I heard it unlock as we got closer, and bit my lower lip as I reached down to turn the knob. As soon as the door opened, I felt my heart leap up into my throat, and had to try with all my might not to cry. My parents both lay in the middle of the entryway, atop one another, completely bled out on the kitchen floor. "...no..." I whispered simply, starting toward them, but the negotiator stopped me, grabbing my arm and nodding into the other room, where I could easily see one of the children sitting on the couch. I choked back my sob again and nodded, heading into the living room.

"Welcome home, Pagey..." Dylan spoke with his back turned away from us. "Like the little party I set up for you?"

I took a step toward him and shook my head. "No, Dylan, I don't. Let them go! What did they do to you?" I asked him, approaching one of the girls, but before I could get close enough for it to could, I felt a sharp pain in my arm, and retracted it quickly. "Ahh..." I gasped and turned toward Dylan, who was turning his head toward me slowly. "Wh—what the hell?" I asked.

When Dylan turned around, and his eyes met with mine...his eyes. His eyes were this sickly shade of yellow, and he didn't look like Dylan at all. I felt my body shudder when he looked at me, and he headed toward me, shoved me to the floor and put his index finger on one of the girl's chin's. I watched as the girl, Darby, cried in agony, and started to double over in pain. "STOP IT!" I screamed and started to run toward him, only to be stopped in mid-stride and dropped to the floor by, well, what I wasn't quite sure. "DYLAN! LEAVE HER ALONE!" I screeched, then looked up to see that he was doing the same thing to Emily. "STOP IT!" I screamed.

As though something happened inside of them, both Darby and Emily dropped to the couch in heaps. And the next thing I heard was a gunshot, coming from the negotiator, behind me. I jumped, but when Dylan was still standing there, though there was a hole in his shoulder, all I could do was stare. "Pagey? Do me a small favor, would you? Deliver a message to Sammy Winchester. Tell him that...an old friend sends his condolences for Jessica..." he said to me, charging at the officer and giving him the same treatment that he had to Darby and Emily, except he grabbed hold of his chest.

I couldn't think to answer him, since the scene before my eyes was...just...unbelievable. I watched as the officer dropped to the floor, then Dylan turned to me. He walked up to me slowly, and grabbed hold of my shoulder...and all of a sudden, by body was filled with the most excruciating pain I had ever felt in my life. "Can you deliver the message to Sammy for me, Page?"

I tried to think to answer, but the pain was so severe that...I couldn't do anything. I screamed, and gasped for air. "Y—yes! Yes! I will!" I spoke between gasps, and then heard the door burst open. Dylan dropped me to the floor, and I saw a white mist exude from his body, before the officers pelted his body with their guns. His body hit the floor, and the last thing I saw as his head turned toward me, were his eyes—without the yellow tint. I shuddered and sobbed aloud, crawling over to Dylan's body and holding onto him...


	10. the Story

_Page was laying on the floor in her living room, trying to get away from...Dylan? No. No way. There was no way that could be Dylan, because Dylan would never lay a harmful finger on Page. But...it was Dylan. And he was holding onto her chest, in what looked like a veritable bloodbath. The Wallingford girls. And...no. Page's parents? Oh God. And what looked like a cop, all lay in Page's living room and front hall, in pools of their own blood. Dylan was tightly gripping onto Page's chest, and threatening her. "Will you deliver that message to Sammy for me?" he asked, getting right up in her face and seething._

Page looked as though she could explode from the pain, and tears were streaming from her cheeks. "Y—yes!" she screamed aloud. "Yes! I will!" she screamed. But her screams must have called the attention of the police outside, because they all rushed into the room. A white mist came from Dylan's body, and the next thing I knew, Dylan was dead, on the floor.

I awoke in a cold sweat, running a hand through my hair. "Dean! Dean, wake up..." I reached across the space between our beds and grabbed his arm, pulling on it like I used to when I was little. "Dean! It happened again...I...I had another dream," I watched as he woke up, and flashed me a disbelieving look. "I did! Dude, this one was about Page!" I pleaded with him silently, but he just rolled back over and covered his head with the blanket. I thought about the reaction he'd had when I'd mentioned having dreams in the past. He'd told me I was probably imagining things, and he was probably right. I rolled over in my bed and stared at the wall. I still couldn't shake this feeling that Page was in serious trouble.

I had almost fallen back asleep, when I heard the blaring tone of 'Welcome to the Black Parade' coming from my cell phone. I rolled over and answered it, watching Dean from the corner of my eye as he put the pillow over his head. "Hello?" I asked, wondering who in the hell would be calling at three am, since I hadn't checked the ID on the call.  
"S...Sam?" I heard Page, who was in a fit of uncontrollable sobs on the other line.

I sat up straight and didn't say anything for a second. The tone in her voice was broken up, and she sounded like someone had just...oh God. "Page? Are you okay?" I asked, running a hand through my hair and trying to straighten it up, though I didn't really care what I looked like right then.

She sounded like she'd been through hell. "N...no. Mom...mom, dad...and...Dyl...they're...I...Sam, I need...I need you. I...I'm alone. And...I...please...I'm in Lawrence...at my parents'..." she gasped for air and seemed to break down in sobs, because she wasn't saying anything else.

I felt my heart break, and I got out of bed, reaching across and tugging on Dean's arm again. "Dean. Wake up," I watched as he rolled over. "We'll be there soon, Page, okay? We're in Illinois, so it shouldn't take us...seven hours or so. Just..." I tried to think. "Just try to stay calm, okay? Don't do anything stupid," I told her, and watched as Dean stared at me, a confused look in his eye. "Call me if you need anything..."

Page breathed deeply and heavily. "Please hurry..." she pleaded with me.

I hesitantly hung the phone up, and looked at Dean. "Page's parents and brother...I think they're dead, Dean. Page needs me. We...have to go back to Lawrence..." I pleaded with him. I'd never let Page down in my life. If she ever needed me, I always rushed to be there. "I don't care what you're going to say to object we ha--"

Dean rolled his eyes and nodded at me. "Fine, but you're driving. I fully intend to sleep the whole way there," he said, grabbing his suitcase and glanced at me.

I nodded and took the car keys from the table, grabbed my suitcases and filled up my laptop bag, then rushed to the car, then glanced over my shoulder to see Dean trying to keep up. I couldn't slow down, though, because if what I'd seen in my dream was true...Christ. I tore out of the hotel, like nobody's business, and I think I was doing twenty above the speed limit the whole way there. I kept my cell phone on the dashboard, and listened carefully for the ringer. Page's parents were...the only adults to ever treat me like I mattered. And her brother was a good friend. The guy I went to for advice on guy things, growing up. And now he was...gone. They were all gone. I sighed deeply and glanced over at Dean. Sleeping soundly. He had no clue what was going on. I had just foreseen the death of Page's entire family, and all of a sudden, it happened? I tried not to cry, but the thought of all of this happening...I couldn't help it.

We crossed the border into Lawrence at five in the morning, and I drove the last five miles to Page's house with my foot even harder on the gas pedal. I leaned over to wake Dean as I turned onto Golden St. "We're almost there, dude..." I said, taking a quick left onto the street I grew up on. I passed by Ida Long's place, and our old trailer, and...then pulled into Page's driveway, to see a squad car pulling away. Fuck, this was...real. This had really happened. I walked up to the door, Dean close behind me, both of us still in our pajamas, and knocked on the door.

After listening to make sure Page was coming, I heard a lock slide open, and the door crack a bit. "Sam..." she whispered and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me like she never intended to let go. "They—they're all...I..." she sobbed out, seeming like she had absolutely no clue where to start. "Come in..." she moved out of the way and invited Dean and I into the house.

I followed her lead, and stared at the entryway as we made our way into the living room. A majority of the front hall was blocked off with crime scene tape, as was the living room, and most of the furniture was gone, too. "Page," I said to her, watching as she turned and looked at me. God, that face killed me. I was going to ask her what happened, but that look told me without words that reliving the events would, like, kill her or something. "You...remember my brother, Dean, right? I know it's been a long time since you've seen him, but..."

She nodded and tried to smile at Dean, who showed her a comforting smile in return. "Yeah, I remember Dean. Can I get you guys anything? Coffee? Tea? A beer?" she asked as we made our way to the kitchen.

Dean was about to speak up, but I cut him off. "Let me get it..." I told her, getting into the fridge and watching as she and Dean sat down at the kitchen table. I grabbed Dean a beer, since I knew that was what he'd want, and I put a pot of coffee on for Page and I, then walked over beside her and put a hand on her arm. I was about to sit down beside her, but she stood instead, wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my shoulder. I held her and stroked her hair, trying to at least, take a bit of the pain away.

Dean sighed and took a quick glance at her. "What happened here, Page?" he asked, trying to be sensitive. At least he was more sensitive than he usually was.

Page glanced at Dean, then sighed, leaning her head back against my chest. "I...walked in, and my mom and dad were right there..." she pointed at one of the taped off areas. "And..." she stopped talking, and turned into me, choking out a sob. "I..." she shuddered and breathed in deeply. She looked up into my eyes and swallowed hard. "Dylan...he killed them. But, like, he wasn't Dylan. I tried to tell the cops that but they said I was delirious..." she stared at me, and in her eyes, in that moment, I realized that, maybe she believed me about what Dean and I did.

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "What was different about him?"

Page glanced at Dean again, still clinging to me, but kept her head lain against my chest. "His eyes were...yellow. And before...before the police shot him he—he..." she tried to continue, but exploded in tears, against my shoulder.

I felt tears coming to my eyes again, and leaned down to kiss the top of Page's head. Her whole family died, in one day, and Dean was just 'work, work, work.' But when Dean spoke up, I realized why. "...did a white, like, misty aura come out of him after?" he asked. My eyes widened, as I remembered the stories dad told us about the Yellow Eyed Demon. The very few of them. But they did stick out in my mind.

Page nodded, and I felt a sick feeling in my stomach. "And...he like...told me to tell you that..." she wiped her eyes and headed for the coffee pot when it stopped brewing, preparing our coffee for us. "I don't know...it was weird," she paused. "I don't know if I should tell y--"

Dean cut her off. "Tell us..._everything_ that happened," he put extra annunciation the word 'everything.'

She showed him a confused glance, then looked at me. I nodded at her, telling her that Dean could be trusted. "All right. He told me to 'tell Sammy that an old friend sends his condolences for Jessica.' It was...creepy."

I looked at her like she had two heads, and then turned my glance toward Dean, who seemed to be trying to hide the fact that he knew...something. He was bad at that, really. I wasn't going to worry about that right then, though. Instead, I took the coffee from Page as she offered it to me, and bit my lip. I wasn't sure what to say.

Dean sighed a bit. "All I can really tell you, that might be comforting right now? Is that Sam and I? We're looking for our dad, so he can tell us where to find the thing that killed-"

This time, Page cut Dean off. "I'm coming with you," she said simply, and when she saw that Dean was about to object, she shook her head. "No. No, I don't care. I'm coming with you. I'm just as personal about this as you guys now. And I want whatever that thing is to die...or..." she paused. "Re-die. Whatever. I'm coming with you."  
Dean glared at her. "You don't know what you're getting into here, Page."

She shook her head. "Dean, listen. I know you're trying to help. But, I have..." she paused, and bit her lower lip. "I...have nothing to lose anymore," her eyes became bleary, and she looked from Dean to me. "Please...I...I need this. I can't...I just need to..."

I looked at Dean, then back at Page, realizing that I may get myself into deep shit for saying this, but I didn't care. I was where Page was, not even a year ago, so I definitely agreed. "Yes," I looked at Dean, who scoffed and flashed me an indignant glare. "Yes, you can come with us. I think...having you with us will help."

Dean tapped me on the shoulder, rather harshly, and nodded out to the back porch. "Sam, we need to talk about this. Can you excuse us, Page?" he asked, grabbing me by the upper arm and pulling me out onto the porch, closing the door and glaring at me. "Sam, what the hell are you thinking? A civilian?"

I raised an eyebrow. "We're civilians, too, you know."  
"I don't care. She's not coming with us."  
"Yes. She is. She deserves closure, too, Dean."  
"Closure?" he scoffed. "You think Dad will like this?"  
"I don't really care what dad will like."  
"This is a really stupid idea, you know that?"

"Dean, listen..." I heard him grumbling, and rolled my eyes. "Just listen. You want to get this bastard for what he did to mom, right? And I do too, and for Jess. But...imagine what Page is going through," I glanced at the window, and saw her, with her head in her hands, staring at the table. "She just lost her whole family. And I'm all she has. Listen, man, she's coming with us."

Dean clenched his fists and threw his head back in frustration. "Fine. Fine, okay? But we leave in the morning. Or at noon. Whenever I wake up."

"All right."  
"And you're responsible for training her ass."  
"Sure, Dean."

Dean walked into the house, and I followed suit. "We're leaving whenever we wake up, Page. Can we crash here?" he asked her, trying not to look too mad.

Page nodded, and flashed me a very forced smile, silently saying a thank you, and nodded toward the stairs to show us where we were sleeping. 


	11. Echelon

I showed Dean to the spare room and smiled at him as I opened the door. I was grateful that he'd let me go along with he and Sam, regardless of how hesitantly it may have been. I smiled at him and nodded into the room. "Make yourself at home. And, we have three bathrooms, so feel free to shower whenever you want..." I told Dean, trying as hard as I could to smile.

Dean smiled at me. "Thanks, Page. Night, guys," he said, and nodded his head, dropping his bag onto the floor, and watching as I closed the door. I could tell that he wasn't thrilled about me going with them, to wherever it was we were going, but, I didn't care. I wanted to find out where this thing that killed my family was, and I wanted to rip it's...whatever was inside of it...out.

I glanced at Sam and smiled. "Sam...thank you for talking your brother into letting me go with you guys..." I said to him, glancing at the room across from mine, Dylan's room, and then at my room. I wasn't sure how well this would go over, since Sam was...really sweet, and this wasn't his style at all, but...I went for it anyway. "Sam...I...don't want to be alone tonight. Can...you come into my room and sleep?" I asked as I opened the door. "Or...down into my mom and dad's room? They have a nice...bed..." I sniffled and bit my lower lip. The more I spoke, the more real it became to me. My parents. And my brother. Were gone. And they weren't coming back. I tried not to cry, so it didn't seem like I was guilting Sam into staying in the same bed as me. But...I couldn't help it. I was...a wreck on the inside.

And Sam, being Sam, was there to pick up the pieces, as always. "Don't worry about it, Page, okay? I'm...I'm here for you, okay?" he wrapped his arms around me and nodded to the stairs. "Let's go. I'll stay in your parents' room with you, of course. And I totally get why you don't want to be alone..."

I led him downstairs, and opened the door to my parents' room. Once through the door, I felt my heart, suddenly...empty? It was like...I had gone from being sad, but still feeling that my life was substantial, to having nothing. I walked over to my mom's bedside table and glanced at everything. A portrait of her and my dad, that I had taken on our family vacation to Niagara Falls last year, with Dylan in the background, flirting with a random girl he'd met. I frowned, and I realized all too quickly that I was crying. I took a seat on my parents' bed, and wiped my eyes, trying to keep it together, but I felt Sam's hand on my shoulder, and glanced over at him. "So...do we even know where we're looking?"

Sam bit his lip and stood up, walking toward where he'd set his bags on the floor. "N—no. We don't even know where our dad is, either. But...he keeps sending us coordinates of places to go to help people out and...we kinda just go with it..." he told me. And honestly, this didn't sound like Sam. Following his father blindly like this? But I figure losing Jessica must have done something to him, just like losing my family...it was doing something to me. I needed to be with people who I knew genuinely cared about me, not people who were just...sympathizing with my situation. Sam, at least, I knew that he cared about me. I didn't know Dean well enough yet. "It's dangerous, Page. It's not to late to ch--"

I shook my head, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I can't change my mind, Sam. I can't. I've just lost everything. The one thing I have left is running around the country with his brother, and I don't care how long it takes, Sam. I'm going to get whatever did this to our families. I...swear I will..." I whispered to the picture in my hand, looking at the bedside table again, and smiling a bit when I saw my mother's engagement ring on the table. She couldn't wear it to bed, in fear of losing it, but...I took it from the table and walked over to her jewelry box. I'd bought her a locket with a photo of Dylan and I in it for her birthday the previous year, and I took that out, putting the ring on the chain and clasped it around my neck. I had a piece of my mother and brother now...but not my father. I walked over to my father's bureau and got into the top drawer, grabbing his good luck charm. A penny that he'd bought, with a four leaf clover punched into the middle. I unclasped the necklace and put the clover penny on it, then reached back around to clasp it. Only, this time, I couldn't quite hook them around. It was like the stupid thing had switched directions without telling me. And it was pissing me off.

I was about to holler and throw it to the floor, but I felt Sam's hands on mine, taking the necklace and clasping it together, behind me. I turned around and looked into his eyes. "You, Sam, are the only person in my life, who has always been there when I needed you. I adore you, you know that?" I asked, smiling as I slid a piece of hair from his face. "I don't know where I'd be without—what's wrong?" I asked, glancing at him.

His face had gone from smiling to looking like someone had just taken his happy and thrown it off a mile high cliff. "Um, I, just...started wondering...how many people are going to have to..." he stopped himself, backed up and sat at the foot of the bed. "I mean...my mom, Jess...your family...it's...too many..."

I swallowed hard and nodded in agreement. "I...know what you mean," I said simply, wiping my eyes and sitting beside him, then put my arm around his shoulders, though I had to lean up slightly to do so. "That's why I need to come with you. Both for that and closure..." I lay my head against his shoulder, then nodded toward the headboard of the bed. "Let's try and get some sleep, Sammy. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow..." I sighed a little, and turned my head to look up at him.

He nodded, and we scooted back on the bed, making our way beneath the blanket. I curled my body into him, covering us over and nuzzled a bit closer to him. Something about being close to Sam...made me worry a lot less. Made me feel a lot safer, and a lot less...alone. I felt protected. And that was why I didn't think twice about following Sam and Dean into the unknown. I knew Sam would keep me safe, wouldn't let any of the things we were facing hurt me. I stared at the ceiling, part of me wondering what I had thrown myself into, but the rest of me not caring. I was laying next to the only person I had left in this world who truly mattered to me. And there was no way I was going to lose him, too. I don't think I could survive if I lost Sam.

I leaned up and pressed an innocent kiss to Sam's cheek, flashing a semi-genuine smile. Sam glanced at me, a grin on his face as he pulled me closer to him. "What was that for?" he asked softly.

I shrugged a shoulder and smoothed his hair back again. "Just because..." I told him gently. And that? Was all I was going to say.


	12. Creep

It was down to this. Me, versus Bloody Mary, a spirit that no one really believed existed. Dean and Page had gone outside to check out the sirens and lights, and I was alone in the room. I stood in front of the mirror..._the_ mirror, staring, waiting for her to come and face me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of her. Bloody Mary. Skin as pale white as a wedding dress, and hair that looked like it had lost numerous fights with various gardening equipment. She looked clammy and disgusting, but I knew what I had to do. I hauled back and hit the mirror she was in with all my might, then watched as she moved into the next one. She wasn't going to make it easy, was she? I smashed that mirror as well, and turned back to face the mirror she was _supposed_ to be in. "Come on. Come into this one," I whispered.

Wait...wait, my reflection? Wasn't moving anymore. He—I? I was staring at me and...I lowered my hand. My face. Was burning. I tried to say something, but...god, the pain. The crowbar I had in my hand, just...fell to the floor, and the pain. God, it was so intense. I brought my hand to my chest, then noticed a tad of moisture...a lot of moisture beneath my eyes. Blood. Fuck. "It's your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica," my reflection spoke, and my eyes snapped up to stare. Fuck. It just...hurt. So fucking much. I gasped for air, and breathed in heavily. "You never told her the truth. Who you really were."

I fell to my knees on the floor, and tried to think. Tried to breathe. Tried to...anything. All I could come up with was to gasp for air again. And the words...I didn't. I...never told her who I was, and...God, I...could have saved her. I felt the blood curling down over my chin, and dripping onto my shirt, and I tried to think to respond, to defend myself, but nothing came to me. And...my reflection kept speaking to me. "But it's more than that, isn't it? Those nightmares you've been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning. You had them for days before she died. Didn't you?"

I groaned, tried to bring myself to stand up, then tried to say something. Anything. Tried to bring myself out of whatever was happening. But before I could even send any body part a message, my reflection kept talking. "You were so desperate to be normal, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die? You dreamt it would happen! You dreamt about it and never even told anyone! And Page? What about Page?"

I felt my breath getting short, and my heartbeat getting quicker. This thing was going to kill me. I...had to...do something. "You WANTED to call her. You WANTED to tell her that something was going to happen to her family. You WANTED to, didn't you. But you never did. You could have saved her family, but you didn't, all because you wanted to be normal..." my reflection continued to taunt me. Fuck. It was true. It was all true, and I was going to die before I got the chance to right it. To tell Page that...I knew. What had happened. I gasped for air once more. "You have killed four people. FOUR people died because you're too SELFISH to use your abilities to help them..."

I was about to give in, because the reflection was right. I was horrible. But, the very second I felt like I couldn't take anymore, Dean appeared in the room, and smashed the mirror with the crowbar I'd dropped. And I felt Page's hand on my arm. She was staring at me, confused and concerned, and part of me wondered if she'd heard...any of that. But the concern looked like...normal Page concern. "Sammy? Sammy," Dean spoke.

"It's Sam..." I said simply, smiling as Page wiped some of the blood from my cheeks with her thumb.

"God...are you okay?" she asked in a shocked tone.

"Yeah," was all I could muster from my brain for them.

"Come on, come on..." Dean said, then helped me stand up, and the two of them led me toward the door.

Page was silent. She was...still getting used to all of this, because the look on her face was, just...scared. Worried about me. Me. She always thought about me first. I was about to say something to her, when...I think all three of us heard the sound of shattering glass from behind us. We all turned slowly, and...saw Mary climbing out of the mirror. Page was the only one who got a word out, and I think she said it best. "Shit..." she whispered, and after that, all three of us collapsed to the floor. Page cried out loud, and...Dean, thankfully, thought enough to grab one of the remaining mirrors and hold it up so that Mary was faced with her own reflection.

The voice on the other side of the mirror was feminine, and I put two and two together, assuming that it was Mary's. "You killed them. All those people. You killed them," and with that, she gasped deeply, and within a second, disintegrated to the floor. I let my head drop back, and looked over at Page.

But my train of thought was broken by Dean. "Hey...guys?" he spoke up slowly.

"Mmm?" Page mumbled simply.

"Yeah?" I asked.

Dean chuckled a little. "This has got to be, what, six-hundred years bad luck?" he asked us.

Page forced a laugh, but I let my head hit the floor again. I was in no mood for jokes. I glanced over at Page, who slowly pulled herself from the floor, then to Dean, who did the same. Both of them walked up to me and offered a hand to help me up. I took their hands, and they guided me out to the Impala, where we all just...sat for a second, before Dean took off, heading back for the hotel we were staying at. We walked through the door, and Dean...unceremoniously fell to the bed, leaving Page and I to talk. I turned to look at her.

She spoke up first, though. "You know, Sam..." she said, sitting with me at the table. "Whatever Mary said...to...get to you? Your secret? Whatever it was?" she asked me, swallowing hard. "Maybe...you should just...let it go. Maybe...you should just..." she shrugged. "I don't know. But..."

I shook my head. "Can...we talk out back? I...don't want Dean to wake up..." she stood up, and we walked to the back door, stepping outside together. She showed me a concerned, confused glance, and I nodded toward a bench. She followed me to it, and we sat. "Page. What I'm about to say...you probably...won't believe..."

She shrugged. "Try me..." she grinned a bit. "My beliefs and opinions have...widened over the past few months, anyway..." she reached up to my face and wiped an excess bit of blood away.

I swallowed hard. I had been afraid of that. "I...have these dreams. I...I don't know what causes them, right? But...they're about...these events...and, it's like...when I have them?" I paused and glanced at her. She...was listening intently. Like she was hanging from every word I said. "They...happen. I...had one about Jess. It was about...how she died."

She raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying you're, like...some kind of psychic?"

I shook my head. "No, no..." I bit my lip. "But they're something. I mean, it always seems to happen, you know?" I shrugged. "I dream about it for a week or so...and...it happens," I told her, "but...I wanted to think that...it was just a dream, you know? And then I had it again. And again. And..."

"She didn't believe you?"

"I didn't tell her..." I said, barely above a whisper.

"Oh..." she looked away from me, and at one of the lights in a window of the building behind us.

"There's more..." I said in a softer tone. I watched as her attention turned back to me. "I...Jess wasn't the only time. I...had them...about another incident, too."

She raised an eyebrow and nodded her head. "What incident..."

I looked away from her, up to the sky, begging someone...anyone who was listening to help her find it in her heart to forgive me. "...that...night at your parents' house. I...dreamed a--"

"You...you what?"

I breathed in. "I..."

"You dreamed about my parents dying? And my brother? You dreamed about all of that? And..." she glared at me, sliding back on the bench, away from me. "You...didn't tell me about it?"

"Page, wait..."

She stood up. "No. No...this is...all of this shit is...too much to take, Sam...I..."

"Would you have believed me?" I asked her, a sharp tone coming to my voice, and I realized that it was a little louder than I might have liked, and lowered it a bit. She'd stopped. But not turned back toward me. "If I had called you at three a.m., to tell you that I'd had a premonition in a dream, of your parents and brother dying...the way they did...would you have believed me, Page? Honestly?"

She blinked her eyes. "I..." she paused, then turned her head and looked at me. "No. No, I probably wouldn't have..." she looked at me. "But..." I saw her eyes welling up. "I...don't know..." she took a step toward me. "I...just...shit, why do things like this..." she hugged me, and didn't even finish her sentence. But she didn't need to. I knew what she was going to say.

I ran a hand through her hair. "I don't know. But..." I watched as she looked up at me. "We'll make it pay, all right? We will. Let's just..." I nodded back toward the hotel room. "Let's get some sleep, so we can leave tomorrow morning, okay?" I asked her in a gentle tone, and led her back into the room. I was about to crawl into the sleeping bag that I'd set up for me on the floor, but Page patted the bed next to her. I half-smiled and stood up, walking toward the bed and laying down beside her. Much more cramped than our usual arrangements, but...it was kind of nice to be close to her. I felt her hand on my back, and immediately, I felt grateful to have her as a friend. She just...forgave me. Without me having to apologize. Yes, Page Fabrizzio was something else. Something I didn't know if I could live without.


	13. Surrender

The little girl, Sari, was in uncontrollable tears, and she looked at Dean, who had just asked where Sam was. "He's inside," she cried, nodding toward the house and then looking at her mother. She glanced from her, to me, then back at Dean. She looked like she was unsure that what she was about to say was true. "...somethings got him..." she added to the end, in a sniffly voice.

Dean and I exchanged knowing glances, and Dean rushed to the trunk of the Impala. I followed him, but he shot me a look. I knew what he was going to say, but I wasn't going to buy it. Still, I let him argue his point. "You're not going in there, Page. You stay out here with Jenny and..."

I shook my head. "Dean. You know as well as I do that there is nothing you can say to prevent me from going in there. So, why don't you just hand me a gun and give it up, so we can get in there quicker and save Sam," I told him, watching as Dean agreed, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. I took the shotgun he handed me, and rushed to the door with him, watching helplessly as he chopped at it with an axe. Peering in through the window, I saw Sam be flung violently against a set of cabinets, and stand up sluggishly...and then...I watched him get pinned to the wall by...something? Nothing? I didn't even know what was going on. "Hurry, Dean...please..."

Dean chopped a hole in the door, large enough for us to crawl through, and we climbed in. Dean started shouting for Sam, "Sam? Sam!" he called out throughout the house.

I directed him to the living room, and pulled my gun before going around the corner. "He's in here!" I called out, watching as Dean followed me. We got into the room, and Dean pushed in front of me as he saw Sam...being approached by—God, I could only describe it as a human on fire. We raised our guns and aimed at it.

"No! Don't!" Sam struggled out, turning his eyes to us. "Don't!"

"What?" I asked, looking on with a confused face. Sam was...going to let this thing kill him?

"Why?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam's face curved into a confused smile. "Because...I can see who she is now..."

Dean and I glanced at one another, and I lowered my gun, listening to what Sam told me. Dean didn't right away, but he glanced at the figure before us. What happened next, it could only be described as...miraculous. The fire around the figure vanished. And...it was Mary Winchester. I recognized her from photos that Sam had shared with me. My eyes widened, and I looked at Sam, who wasn't sure what to think, then to Dean, who slowly lowered his weapon. "Mom?" he whispered, tears forming in his eyes as he took a step toward her. And I had to admit, I'd never seen that man cry before.

Mary looked at Dean and smiled gently. "Dean..." she glanced at me for a moment and nodded. I...was speechless. She was beautiful. And, she gave me a look, like she knew who I was. She smiled an all knowing smile, nodded her head, then turned away. She turned and walked toward Sam. "Sam..." she spoke gently, her smile fading slowly. "...I'm sorry..."

Sam was still smiling, but he had tears in his eyes, as well as a confused glance. "For what?" he asked, trying not to sob uncontrollably.

Mary didn't say anything. She simply looked at him sadly for another moment, then turned around and walked away from all of us, toward the middle of the room. "You," she said with a glance toward the ceiling. "Get out of my house," she commanded to...I wasn't quite sure who. "And let go of my son!" she said, and with that...she burst into flame. Dean and I stared in amazement as the flames engulfed her body, then seemed to leap into the ceiling.

Sam fell from the wall, and into a heap on the floor. He quickly stood up, and walked toward us slowly. "Now it's over," he said as he looked at Dean, wiping the tears from his eyes. He turned to look at me, and we slowly made our way out of the house.

That night, at the hotel, I don't think I had ever fallen asleep so easily in my life. But within a couple of hours, I was awoken again. Not by anything in particular. Just...because I couldn't sleep. I looked to the floor where Sam was supposed to be sleeping, and saw that...he wasn't there? Well, I wasn't worried. I knew that sometimes he liked to go outside and just, be alone. Look at the sky and be all...deep and...Sam-ish. And tonight, after what happened, I didn't know if he should be alone. I got out of bed and, quietly, so not to wake Dean, made my way toward the door. Peering out the back window, I looked around for Sam. But saw nothing. And then the worry set in. I walked out the sliding glass door to the small porch and looked around, until, finally, I saw Sam's figure, laying in the grass a few hundred feet away. He had his arms behind his head and his knees pointing toward the sky.

I walked over to him and took a seat in the grass. "You okay, Sammy?" I asked. As far as I knew, I was the only one who could call him Sammy. Even Jess had called him Sam. But I could call him Sammy. And did so. All the time. And that fact always made me feel so special.

He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. "As okay as I can be, I guess..." he half-laughed. "I just saw my mom's ghost, and I don't ever remember seeing her in the flesh, you know? I guess it's just...kind of weird."

I nodded. I felt horrible for Sam. Sure, I was in the same boat as him. But, God, the poor guy was going through complete and total hell over this. Everything seemed to be teaming up to make his life hell, and it wasn't fair. I was going to end everything that had hurt him. And everything that had hurt my family. "Yeah, I can see that..." I said, noticing that the grass was itching my legs below my pajama shorts.

He sat up and looked at me. "I...don't know. I mean, I..." he paused. "Dean got a chance to know her. I don't know what's better...having a chance to know the one you love and then losing them, or not even getting the opportunity. I've been through them both and as far as I can see they both fucking suck..." he looked at the ground. "I just..."

I nodded, and waited until he stopped to reply. "I was just thinking about that myself. And, I mean..." I looked away from him. "They're both painful. There's just...no win. I think, maybe...the way we win is...trying not to dwell on it all the time," I shrugged. "I mean, I know it's hard, since we face off against these things every day. But, like...maybe we should focus our free time energy on...things less—I don't know—depressing?"

He glanced at me, and a grin came across his face. "What did you have in mind?"

I shrugged and smiled. "I don't know. Maybe next time, we can go to the movies or something, rather than stay home after we finish, and moping about what happened. Distractions could be welcomed, you know?" I turned a little red. That sounded really...datish. And he was going to laugh at me. And I was going to feel like an ass for suggesting a datish distraction to my best friend. Who probably looked at me and saw a sister. But...I looked at him and saw...God, I saw so much. I waited for him to answer.

He smiled and nodded his head. "That...sounds awesome. I think the distraction would be...really good," he nodded and stood up. "You think it's time for bed yet?" he asked me with a slight grin, nodding back toward the hotel room.

That grin, coupled with those words...God, that wasn't fair. But, I nodded and pulled myself from the ground. Sam would most likely go back to his place on the floor, and I on the bed. I crawled into bed, and rolled onto my left side, preparing to try and fall back to sleep. Sam had become something of a warm, security thing to me since that day at my house when we shared my parents' bed. And the nights when we didn't stay in the same bed were...hard nights for me. I stared at the wall, when I felt Sam's warm hand touch my shoulder. I turned over and looked at him.

"Mind a little company?" he asked as he lifted the corner of the blankets.

I smiled and shook my head, rolling the rest of the way over. "I never mind your company, Sammy," I told him softly. I assumed my usual position, curled into his chest, with him holding onto me. It was kind of scary. How he could take everything and make it seem...less important. I curled into his chest and smiled. "Night, Sammy."

"Night, Page..." he whispered.


	14. Crawling

I had to admit, that place made me glad I wasn't crazy. Well, maybe I was crazy, hunting ghosts with Sam and Dean like this, but it was a type of crazy that I could handle being. This place, though, made me feel...horrible for my uncle Jamison, in the psych ward of the Lawrence Mental Health Institute. I sighed and followed Dean back to the exit of the asylum. We both peered around the corner, and saw the girl and boy we'd left with Sam—and the girl...was...pointing—oh shit! "Shit!" I yanked Dean back around the corner and listened as the shotgun went off.

Dean and I exchanged shocked glances, and Dean scoffed. "Hey! It's just us!" he waved his hand around the corner and looked from one of them to the other. "What are you still doing here?" he asked, raising his eyebrow and looking toward the door. "Where's Sam?"

One of the kids, Gavin, looked at Dean and shrugged a shoulder. "He went to the basement. You called him..." he spoke indignantly.

I glanced at Dean, slightly confused. I'd been with Dean the whole time, and not once had he picked up his phone. Dean looked at the two kids and cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't call him."

The girl, Kat, looked at me, and then at Dean, and she bit her lip. "His cell phone rang. He said it was you."

"Basement, huh?" Dean glanced at me, his eyebrow still up. "All right..."

I nodded and turned, heading for the stairwell to the basement. "Watch yourselves," I told them in a gentle voice.

Dean nodded and grabbed the extra shotgun from the floor. "And watch out for us, too!" he added, watching as Kat got a guilty look on her face. And with that, the two of us were headed for the basement.

"We need to be careful when we see him, Page. Whatever this thing is? It could have gotten to him, you know?" he asked me, brushing a hand through his hair. "So..."

I nodded and bit my lip. I wasn't sure what it would do, but...I was worried for Sam. "Sammy?" I called to him. "Sam? Are you down here?" I hollered, listening as Dean called out, too. "Sam?" I looked around. I wasn't seeing...anything. I turned to look at Dean. "Dean, I--"

"Sam!" Dean called, and I turned around to see Sam standing right in front of Dean, who jumped a little. I walked up beside him and looked at Sam. Something...looked a bit off. "Man! Answer me when I'm calling you. You all right?"

Sam didn't do much. Just looked at both of us, and he looked a bit angry. "Yeah, I'm fine."

I looked at Dean, a little uncertainty coming across my face as I spoke up, to Sam. "You know it wasn't Dean that called your cell, right?" I asked, taking a step toward him, to hug him and make sure he knew how grateful I was that he was alive. But when his arms wrapped around me...I didn't feel the normal feeling I got with Sam. He felt...almost cold to me.

Sam nodded and hugged me back, but let go a lot quicker than we usually did. He also, almost pushed me away. "Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here."

Dean nodded in agreement, and looked at me with concern when Sam pushed me away. I mirrored his concern, but he spoke up. "I think I know who—Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us," You haven't seen him, have you?"

Sam shook his head, and shrugged a shoulder. "No," he responded. "How do you know it was him?" he asked, and he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. That look...gave me chills.

I swallowed hard and took a step closer to Dean, for once feeling like he would make me feel safer than Sam. "Because we found his log book," I said, watching as Dean stood between Sam and I. "Apparently, he was experimenting on his patients..."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Some awful stuff, too," he added, gently, inconspicuously placing a hand on my arm, silently telling me that he was looking out for me. He glanced back toward Sam. "It makes lobotomies look like a couple aspirin."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "But it was the patients who rioted," he argued.

I nodded in agreement with Sam. "Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott," I pointed out, nervousness still filling my body. This...didn't look, sound or feel like the Sam I knew, and it was really freaking me out.

Dean continued with what I was saying, elaborating, as I couldn't because I was too freaked out. "Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy," he said, shrugging a shoulder. "He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger, then they'd be cured of it. Instead, it only made 'em worse and worse, and angrier and angrier."

I kept going, biting my lower lip. "So we were thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing, you know?" I asked, breathing deeply and looking at Sam, trying not to show that he was scaring me. "To the cop, to the kids in the seventies—making them so angry they become homicidal. Come on, Sam. We gotta find his bones and torch 'em."

Sam looked at me again, with this glare that made my blood run cold. "How?" he asked me. "The police never found his body."

Dean spoke up, keeping himself between Sam and I. "The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere, where he'd work on his patients," he said simply, taking a couple steps toward a door. "So if I was a patient, I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on him myself."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. It sounds kind of--"

"Crazy?" Dean finished the sentence.

Sam nodded. "Yeah..."

Dean shrugged, and nodded for me to follow him. "Yeah, exactly..."

I followed Dean, and Sam followed behind us. "I told you, I looked everywhere," he said indignantly, glaring at Dean and I. "I didn't find a hidden room."

Dean laughed a little. "Well, that's why they call it hidden."

I started knocking on the wall, and paused when I heard a hollow spot. "You hear that?" I asked, as I looked at Sam and Dean.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean crouched down beside me, and smirked at me. "Good find, Page..." he said. "There's a door here!"

"Dean, Page," Sam called to us in a monotone. We turned around, and my heart started to race. Sam was holding a gun at us, and he looked really mad. And his nose was bleeding. My eyes widened, and I felt Dean push me behind him. "Step back from the door," he commanded.

I stood behind Dean, and my eyes widened. Dean kept himself strangely calm, however. "Sam, put the gun down," he said in a sharp tone.

Sam narrowed his eyes and glared at Dean. "Is that an order?"

Dean half-laughed and shrugged a shoulder. "No, it's more like a friendly request..."

Sam aimed the shotgun at Dean and his eyes narrowed even more. "Cause I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders," he spat.

I couldn't even think to speak, but thankfully, Dean had that covered. "I knew it. Ellicott did something to you, didn't he?"

"For once in your life, just shut your mouth!" Sam shouted, and I ducked down behind Dean.

Dean shook his head. "What are you gonna do, Sam?" he asked and took a step away from me. "The gun's filled with rock salt. Not gonna kill me."

I shrieked as I heard the shotgun go off, and then watched helplessly as Dean went crashing through the door we just found. I ran to follow him, but stopped dead when I heard Sam's voice. "No, but it'll hurt like hell," he said with a grin, and then looked at me. "Stop. Leave him be and turn to look at me."

My eyes were welling up with tears, but I did as I was told. "Sam..." I swallowed hard. "P—please, don't hurt me."

Sam scoffed. "Me, me, me, Page. Seriously, you've always been like that, haven't you?" he glared at me, and took a step toward me, keeping the gun raised. "All through middle school, all through high school—you're nothing but a little self centered bitch, you know that?"

His words cut me like a knife. "Sam, I don't know what you're talking about! High school? You were all I--"

He cut me off. "Shut the fuck up and let me talk. You acted like being my friend made you a fucking martyr. You acted like you were only my friend because no one would be," he walked toward me, and I backed up, until I felt a solid part of the wall against my back. I panicked, and even more so when I felt the shotgun touch my chest. "Oh, let me guess. 'Sam, please don't hurt me, you know that I care about you more than anything, blah, blah.' I've heard it all before. Why don't you just--" and before he could finish his sentence, I watched him fall to the floor in front of me, and looked up to see Dean standing in front of me, holding a piece of wood in his hand.

"Why don't you just shut up, Sammy?" he asked, and then looked at me. "You okay, Page?"

I shook my head no, and sniffled. "I..." I tried to say something, but Dean stepped over Sam and hugged me lightly. "God, I just want this to be over. Let's..." I looked up at Dean and smiled. "Let's torch that motherfucker," I said, turning away from Dean and heading into the room. "Are...you okay?" I asked him, trying not to live up to Sam's opinion of me, and being a little less self-centered.

Dean nodded and put a hand on my shoulder. "You know that wasn't really Sam talking, right?" he asked as he scanned over the room.

I shrugged and half-laughed. "As much as I'd like to say that, yes, I know it wasn't him? It was, you know? Maybe I do owe him an apology for that...I was..." I shrugged and trailed off.

Dean shook his head. "No. That wasn't Sam talking. When we were younger, I'd come home from jobs with dad? And all I'd hear about was you. And how much you and your family looked out for him," he half-smiled. "Just trust me. Sam doesn't feel like that about you..." he promised.

I smiled at Dean and shrugged. "I wouldn't blame him if he did. But thank you..." I said gently, nodding toward a small, white cabinet in the corner of the room. Approaching it slowly, I felt Dean approach me and I felt a little safer. I pulled the door open, and...gagged. There sat Dr. Ellicott's body—or, what was left of them, in all their decomposing glory, and the stench of death filled the room. And, I watched Dean get into his bag for a container of salt. I swallowed hard and turned my head back toward the door. "Dean...hurry..." I whispered, biting my lip in fear as Dr. Ellicott walked slowly through the door, and toward me.

Dean raised his gun, but I shouted out. "No! NO, JUST TORCH HIM!" before feeling Dr. Ellicott's hands touch my face and send electric pulses throughout my body. I screamed, and writhed in his grasp.

"Don't be afraid," Dr. Ellicott's voice told me. "I'm going to help you. I'm going to make you all better..." he said, sending more electric pulses through my body and pinning me to the wall. I felt like all the happy thoughts toward anyone I loved were just being...drained. And the second before I thought I might snap, Ellicott's body disintegrated in front of me, and there was nothing left but a pile of clothes. After a couple of seconds just standing there, leaning against the wall, I glanced at Dean. "Took you long enough..." I joked.

Dean grinned and shrugged a shoulder. "I couldn't get the match to light, so I gave up and used my lighter instead, sorry, Page."

I laughed and shrugged. I was about to say something else, when Sam's body appeared in the door. I jumped back and bit my lower lip. But once again, Dean covered for me, speaking up. "You're not gonna try and kill us, are you?"

Sam looked at the floor. "No."

"Good," Dean smirked. "Because that would be awkward."

I walked past Sam, and out to the hall, stopping only when I heard him come up behind me and touch my arm. Dean walked past us and to tell Gavin and Kat that the coast was clear. Sam bit his lower lip and looked down at me. "Page," he started, an apologetic look on his face.

I shrugged. So, angry Sam thought I was a self-centered bitch. Maybe that was what was buried in the recesses of his mind, even when he wasn't being controlled my a homicidal maniac. I took a deep breath. "You know, I had never seen that look on your face before, Sam. I thought you actually might...kill me..."

Guilt spread across Sam's face like a blanket, and he shook his head. "No. And...I don't think you're self-centered, either, Page. I'm...sorry. I don't...you know he did something to my head..." he squeezed my arm lightly.

And that was the feeling that Sam's touch always gave me, right there. The warm, and comforting feeling that nothing could or would hurt me. And in his eyes, I saw the truth. I half-smiled and stood on my tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. "I know. I...it's okay. And I'm sorry...for all those years that I stood idly by. And...if I ever made you feel like my being friends with you made me a--"

"No," Sam shook his head and smoothed my hair back, putting his arm around my shoulders. "You never made me feel anything aside from being the luckiest guy in the world for having a friend like you," he promised me.

I smiled, and walked with him to the exit of the asylum. Yeah, I'd never been more grateful to be sane in my entire life. God knows what actually goes on in those places...


	15. Torn

"_Page, I'm sorry, following Dean around may be enough for you, but I'm not satisfied with this at all."_

Sam's words rang around in my head and I swallowed hard. This was...the worst week in the history of my life. Really. Sam and Dean had gotten into a blowout after a cryptic phone call from their dad, and Sam had a fit and left to go to California in search of answers. Leaving Dean and I in a psycho town in search of a ravenous scarecrow on a yearly murderous rampage. I rolled my eyes. A year ago, I would never have had to say that sentence, and if someone had suggested to me that I would have? I would have laughed them off the face of the Earth. But here Dean and I were in the Burkitsville Community College, talking to one of their professors about Pagan Ideology. Dean had just asked him a question, which I had been too deep in thought to pay attention to, but I snapped back into reality when the professor answered.

"It's not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology," he said with a grin, glancing between Dean and I and shrugging.

Dean grinned and tilted his head to the side as he shrugged. "Yeah, well, call it a hobby," he said as he looked at me, and I grinned too.

"But you said you were interested in local lore?" the professor looked from Dean, to me, since that was what I said.

I nodded and looked up at him, smiling a little. "Mmhmm," I replied, running a hand through my hair and sighing. I was distracted. Sam was gone, and I barely knew Dean. And Sam had left without saying goodbye to me. And when Dean and I called him earlier, all we had done was fought. I asked him to come back, and he said no, and blah, blah. All that. But, it was all I could think of. The fact that, maybe, my best friend was gone for good.

The professor laughed and shook his head at me, glancing between Dean and I again. "I'm afraid Indiana isn't really known for its Pagan worship..."

Dean looked at me, and frowned as he noticed the distraction on my face, that I hardly seemed to be into the conversation. "Well, what if it was imported?" he asked with a shrug and a smile. "You know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants?"

The professor nodded and shrugged a shoulder. "Well, yeah," he said nonchalantly.

I decided, in that moment, that I was done moping about Sam not being there. I had done everything in my power to keep him sane over the years, and make sure that he knew that I was there for him, and he thanked me by running off on a hunch. So, I'd try my best to be helpful to Dean, though my heart was hardly in it at that point. I piped into the conversation. "Like that town near here, Burkitsville. Where are their ancestors from?" I asked with a shrug, rushing to catch up to Dean and the professor.

The professor looked at me and raised an eyebrow, concern spreading across his face. "Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia," he nodded in affirmation when he finished.

Dean nodded and looked at me. "What could you tell us about those Pagan gods?" he asked.

He shrugged. "Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses," he told us, leading us to his classroom and shrugging a shoulder.

I nodded in understanding. "Right, but, like...we're actually looking for one. One that might live in an orchard..." I shrugged and followed behind the professor, into the classroom.

The professor grabbed a book from a shelf and started rifling through the pages. "Woods god, hmm? Well, let's see," he said.

I paid close attention, and Dean was, too, over my shoulder, and we both put a finger on a page when we saw a picture of a scarecrow with a bunch of farmers standing around it. I spoke up. "Wait, wait, wait. What's that one?" I asked as I looked at the professor, then to Dean.

The professor shook his head and started to turn the page. "Oh, that's not a woods god, per se..." he shook his head, but neither Dean or I would let him turn the page.

Dean started reading. "The V-Vanir?" he asked if his pronunciation was correct, and when the professor nodded, he kept going. "The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields."

I raised an eyebrow and kept reading, running a hand through my hair. "Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, and one female..." I pointed at the picture, then looked at Dean. "Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?"

Dean nodded, but the professor looked unamused. "I suppose," he said.

Dean shrugged. "This particular Vanir that's energy sprung from the sacred tree?" he asked.

The professor started to become slightly annoyed. "Well, Pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic," he told us, rolling his eyes a bit.

I nodded in understanding and looked at Dean. "So," I looked back to the professor. "What would happen if the sacred tree was torched?" I asked, watching as Dean nodded in intrigue, looking at the professor for the answer. "You think it'd kill the god?"

The professor laughed. "You kids know, these are just legends we're discussing," he chuckled a little.

Dean nodded and offered a hand for the professor to shake. "Oh, of course. Yeah, you're right," he smiled a little.

I shook the professor's hand, too, and smiled. "Listen, thank you very much..." I put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't even know how much you helped," I told him.

"Glad I could help," he replied, and Dean and I headed for the door.

Dean opened it first, and I watched with a look of shock on my face as the sheriff appeared on the other side and knocked him in the head with the butt of his rifle. "Dean!" I shouted, but before I could do anything else, the professor had broken a vase over the back of my head, and I was out cold on the floor, with Dean.

I came to in an orchard, and it was dark. And I was alone...and tied to a tree. "Shit!" I whispered. "Dean? DEAN? ARE YOU HERE?" I called out, looking around. But I couldn't see too far. It was too dark.

"I'm over here! Page, are you okay?" he called to me. I couldn't see him, though, because the tree was too far ahead of me.

I swallowed hard and looked around. "Yeah, yeah, all things considered..." I told him. "So...how do we get out of this?" I asked, fought against the ropes. But they were too strong.

I didn't hear anything from Dean for a second, but when I did, the words weren't exactly comforting. "I...don't exactly know," he told me. "Can you see it?"

I looked around for the scarecrow, which was the only 'it' Dean could be talking about. "No, I can't. I'm at the wrong angle. Oh...god...wait. I see something! DEAN, WATCH OUT!" I screeched. The shadow I saw was coming from the tree line, straight for Dean.

"Dean?" I heard a familiar voice coming from close to Dean, and for a second, my heart rose. Because I knew the carrier of the voice. But after that, it sank again when I realized that Sam and I were not exactly on the best terms. Especially after we called him and he was in the train station with a woman.

Dean, however, sounded ecstatic, and understandably so. "Oh! Oh, I take everything back I said. I'm so happy to see you," he shouted, and though I couldn't see anything, I could only assume that Sam was untying Dean. "Come on. How'd you get here?"

"I...uh...stole a car..." Sam sounded sheepish, and I tried not to smile. "Where's Page?" he asked, and I forced my face to go grumpy.

"Haha! That's my boy!" Dean laughed proudly, then peered around the tree. "She's right here. I'll get her. You keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute."

"What scarecrow?" I heard Sam ask, and Dean stopped in his tracks, glancing at the perch, and then turned around and hurried to untie me.

I saw Sam come around the corner, and I tried not to look at him. If I looked at him, I'd fall all over myself and apologize to him. And he had hurt me, so why in the hell did I need to apologize? I stood up when Dean untied me, and avoided Sam's eyes. But they caught mine, and I almost immediately felt horrible.

Dean broke my train of thought, however. "I don't mean to break up the happy reunion, but we have a sacred tree to torch," he told us, then nodded toward the edge of the woods.

Sam had been staring at me, and I was close to saying something to him, but thankfully, Dean's words hit me first, so I followed him, in a run, to the edge of the woods. Dean had explained everything to him, from the scarecrow to the sacred tree, and Sam was just starting to piece two and two together. "Alright, now, this sacred tree you're talking about..."

Dean nodded. "It's the source of it's power."

Sam raised an eyebrow and shrugged a shoulder. "So, let's find it and burn it."

Dean looked from Sam to me and shook his head. "Nah, in the morning. Let's just shag ass before Leather Face catches up," he shrugged, and we kept going until we reached a clearing.

I breathed deeply, so glad that we were out of the woods, but my joy was cut short, when my eyes fell upon the sheriff, and a few of the other older people in town...and a bunch of other townspeople, who were closing in on Sam, Dean and I. I nodded back toward the woods. "This way, guys..." I said, but when I turned to walk back into the woods, there were about four of them in my way. I swallowed hard and looked at them, trying to be reasonable. "Please, just let us go, okay?"

One of the people was about to object and attack us, but when he took a step toward me, the freaky scarecrow drove it's sickle into his abdomen and started to drag him away. I leapt back, since he was within reach of me, and I felt Sam's arms around me. I should have fought against him. I should have. But I didn't have it in me, and I just clung to him with all I had in me. We started to walk away, but we heard something. Something like a scream, and we all turned around, and kept looking around. "Wh...what was that?" I asked.

Dean shrugged and nodded away from the insanity. "Let's get out of here..." he told us, starting to walk away.

I pushed away from Sam and rushed up to walk alongside Dean. I wasn't ready to talk to Sam yet. The ride back to the hotel was silent, and I lay down in the bed, watching as Sam sat at the kitchen table, not even getting ready for bed. Part of me wanted to say something. Just because I always had, and Sam would do the same if it were me. I paused. Sam _would _do the same for me. I sat up and dangled my feet off the edge of the bed. "Sam..." I whispered, standing up and walking toward him.

He turned and looked at me, sadness falling over his face. "Yeah?" he asked in a soft tone.

I nodded out the sliding glass door and bit my lower lip nervously. "We need to talk...up for a walk?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't turn me down. He nodded and stood, and we made our way out the sliding glass door. I sighed deeply. "Sam, I--"

He held a hand up and looked at me. "Wait. Let me go first, please..." he swallowed hard. "I...you know, there were a few reasons why I came back. And..." he swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair. I'd only seen Sam look this nervous a couple of times before. The first one was prom night, on our drive to the school. And the second one was when he first met Jess. I remembered that he could barely say anything the way he meant, and he was just so nervous and gawky. Right now, he was just about that bad all over again. "The main reason I decided to come back? Was...because I didn't want you to be mad at me...I came back for you..."

I stared at him and shock befell my face. "...really?" I asked, and watched as he nodded. "I was...so mad. I mean, I thought that I was being abandoned by the only person who I'd always been able to count on you know? But, like..." I shrugged and shook my head. "I tried to stay mad at you and when I saw you, it just...went away," I told him. It was true, too. The second I'd seen his face, whatever anger I'd been feeling, it just...went away. Faded out and changed to just...a feeling of hurt. But now even that was almost gone. I smiled and stood on my tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek, only, this time, I think my subconscious was screaming at me, because I felt my lips meet his, and...God, it felt right. I stood back flatfoot and looked at Sam, my cheeks turning bright red.

I looked at Sam, who's cheeks were equally as red as mine, and bit my lip. "Uh..." I wasn't sure exactly to say. Of the years that we'd been friends? We'd never...kissed one another. Well, we had. But we were nine years old and it was under the slide at recess because we were dared to. This was the first time I'd ever actually...wanted to. And the fact that Sam hadn't said anything...it wasn't making me feel any better. "I'm...sorry..."

And, before I could even think to say anything else, Sam had leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. An innocent, small gesture, but it made me feel less like an idiot, at least. I simply smiled at him, waiting for him to say something else.

* * *

Hey, guys. This would be Lizi. I'd like to toss out a huge thanks to all of you who have reviewed this fic. Your feedback? Is really appreciated and to me, feedback is sort of what makes me keep writing. So, yeah. I'm not even close to finished with these two. Got quite a few more ideas in me. ) 


	16. Sweetness

I wasn't sure what came over me in that moment, but my lips were against Page's, and a small smile was on my face, though I wasn't sure if either of us really meant the gestures. I glanced at her, keeping an arm around her shoulders. It was a strange feeling, to have just kissed my best friend, but it really...wasn't a bad one. Her lips were soft and warm, and...I hadn't been kissed since Jessica. So, I did the only thing I could think to do, and leaned down and kissed her again. I put my hands in her hair, pulling her closer to me and locking our lips, grinning as she walked us toward a bench, and climbed up on it. Even then, she was only six or so inches taller than me, so I could still kiss her, and only had to tilt my neck up a little. I pulled away from the kiss for a second and looked at her. This was...insane. Part of it...didn't make sense, that she could have been here all along, but neither of us would have noticed it right before our faces. Because that kiss? Felt more right than anything I'd ever done in my life.

But then the other part of it felt absolutely right. Like her lips were made for me to kiss, because god, the way they fit mine was...better than any kiss I'd had in my life. I ran a hand through her hair and looked up at her as she stood on the bench, laughing lightly at the fact that she had to do so to be as tall as I was. She gave me a foreboding look, and jumped down from the bench, looking up at me. I looked into her eyes, wondering what to do from there. This was...really new to me. I'd never kissed my best friend. I'd never even thought of it, really. But when she kissed me, it sent a pulse to my brain to return the favor. And now, I had to admit, I was more than a little bit confused about how I felt for her. I'd kissed a few people in my life. But, none of them had quite felt like that. And we hadn't even gone beyond a simple touch of the lips. I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and looked at Page, wondering if she had any idea where to go from here.

She smiled softly at me, and rocked up onto her tip toes, pressing another kiss to my lips, this time keeping them there a bit longer. I leaned down and put my hand in her hair, on the back of her head, deepening the kiss a bit, and followed her lead as she backed me up, into a huge conifer tree. I wasn't sure what direction this was about to go in, but I went with her lead, and grinned a bit when I felt her lips open. I followed her lead and brushed my tongue against hers, moving my hands lower and resting them on her hips. Our tongues danced with one another, and explored the reaches of one another's mouths, and her hands were...running up and down my back, in a way I never would have thought Page's would. I wasn't exactly sure what would have happened, had things kept going at that pace, but I didn't get a chance to find out, before Dean poked his head out the sliding glass door.

"Dude! I'm all for PDA, but I do NOT want to look out the damn window and see the two of you screwing up against a tree, okay?" he shouted, in true Dean fashion, and ruined the moment that Page and I had going.

Page scoffed and glared at the door. "Dean, what the hell?" she looked around us, watching as a couple of the people around us turned their lights on. I think I even saw one of them come to the window.

He shrugged. "Well! If you guys want a night alone, I'd be more than happy to arrange a night where we have more than one hotel room! God knows sharing a room with my brother and his...whatever the hell you are--"

"Best friend," we both spoke up, glaring at Dean.

"Whatever. God knows it's cramping my style..." he told us, grinning as both of our faces twisted in anger. "Well! I could have had a bazillion women coming and going by now if I wasn't sharing a room with my brother and the girl he so obviously wants to--"

"DEAN!" I yelled. "Shut up and go to bed, okay?" I pointed back into the hotel room and covered my face in humiliation. I could not believe he had just done that. I watched as he hesitantly obeyed, grumbling the whole way. Well, at least in that ataxia of insanity, I had found out that Page and I were just best friends, still. So, the idea that the two of us could be more was...insane. I bit my lip as the two of us headed back into the hotel room behind Dean. Why did that make me feel...sad? Empty, even? Page and I had been best friends for just under a decade now. So, remaining friends wouldn't be...bad, right? But...why was it...making me feel empty? I let Page go inside first, and watched her crawl into bed.

Once again, I was about to lay in the bed I'd set up on the floor, when Page called to me. "Sam? Come sleep up here with me?" she asked me, patting the bed beside her.

I grinned and nodded my head, getting up and heading for the bed. "Sure..." I said, glancing toward Dean's bed and raising an eyebrow. He was giving me an all-knowing glance, and it was making me a little uneasy. But, I crawled into bed with Page, and as she curled up to me this time, I have to admit...I felt something...different. Something I'd never felt for Page before. The blood was...rushing lower, and...shit. I stood up quickly. "Um...I...need to use the bathroom. Just...you know, fall asleep if I take awhile. I'll...be out eventually..." I said, watching confusion spread across Page's face, and then glanced at Dean, at the smirk he was wearing. I flipped him off and hurried into the bathroom, turning on the shower—but only the cold water. I stripped down and stared into the mirror, before I got into the shower. What...in the hell was going on? This was Page. Page Fabrizzio. My best friend since high school. We'd been friends for years. And I'd never thought of her like this before. So...what the hell was this sudden change about?

What in the hell was happening to me?


	17. Year Zero

This was unbelievable. This kid. I had trusted this kid and all along, he had been using telepathic powers and killing off his family members one by one...and now he was going after his mother. Well, step-mother. Sure, his motives were understandable. Though his method wasn't commendable. I rubbed my temples as we sat in the car, and Dean and Page were both looking at me, concern on their faces. I swallowed hard and ran a hand through my hair nervously. "Max is doing it," I told them, shaking my head in dismay. "Everything I've been seeing."

Page looked at me and her eyes widened in shock, then her face twisted around into an uncertain gaze. "You sure about this?" she asked me with a shrug.

I nodded. I'd seen him, levitate a knife into the air and stick it right in between his stepmother's eyes. I'd seen her cold body, fall to the floor. I saw her...die. I nodded again. "Yeah. I saw..." I showed Page a look of concern, too.

"How's he pulling it off?" Dean piped in, seeming slightly amused by everything. But it was hardly amusing. And when I told him, he'd either laugh at me like I'd lost my mind or call me a liar.

But Page seemed to be hanging on everything I was saying, so I spoke up, if only for her. "I don't know. It looked like telekinesis..." I told them, and watched as, just as I'd suspected, Dean's face twisted into an amused grin. He liked to act like he kept an open mind, but really, it was about as closed as a freshly-slammed door.

"So, he's psychic?" Page asked from the backseat of the Impala, an eyebrow raised. She seemed entertained by it all, but at least it looked like she believed me.

Dean, though, had a typical Dean look on his face. "He's a spoon-bender?" he asked with a huge smirk.

I nodded at both of them, though part of me just wanted to punch Dean. "I didn't even realize it, but this whole time he was there," I said, shaking my head in dismay of myself. I should have pieced it together. "He was outside of the garage when his dad died, he was in the apartment when his uncle died," I sighed. "These visions, this whole time, I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max. The thing I don't get is why, guys?" I looked from Dean to Page, hoping one of them had the answers. "I guess because we're so alike?"

Dean raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked me, shaking his head in disagreement. "The dude's nothing like you."

I shook my head and stood my ground. "Well, we both have psychic abilities. We're both—"

Page shook her head and interrupted me. "Both what? Sam, Max is a monster," she said to me, putting a hand on my shoulder and trying to comfort me a bit. It was working, but I still felt oddly responsible for what had happened. What was happening. "He's already killed two people, and now he's gunning for a third."

I shrugged and looked over my shoulder at Page. "Well, with what he went through—the beatings?" I asked, watching Page's face twist in concern, and now it was probably toward Max. "To want revenge on those people, I'm sorry, guys, I hate to say it, but it's not that insane..." I shook my head. It wasn't. We were essentially doing the same thing, going for revenge on the people who had hurt our loved ones. Max was on a personal vendetta, but essentially, it was the same thing.

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family."

I glared at Dean. "Dean—"

Dean stood his ground—not that I expected any less, this being Dean and all. "He's no different than anything else we've hunted. Alright? We've gotta end him..." he told me, pulling the car over and shutting it off in front of the Millers' house.

I grabbed Dean's arm and shook my head insistently. "We're not gonna kill Max," I put my foot down and glared at him. He was not going to kill this kid just because he had some problem putting his emotions together. I was not going to let that shit happen.

Page was about to say something, but she didn't get the chance, before Dean opened his mouth. "Then what?" he asked with an indignant look on his face. "I hand him over to the cops and say, 'Lock him up, officer, he kills with the power of his mind?'" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Forget it. No way, man," I said, keeping my hand gripped firmly on Dean's arm. There was no way he was going to kill this kid. No way in hell.

"Sam—"

I shook my head at Dean. "Dean. He's a person," I insisted, figuring that Dean was so used to fighting dead and undead things, that he forgot that we were dealing with a living being this time around. "We can talk to him. Hey. Guys, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one," I said, glancing at Dean.

Page spoke up first. "I will, yes," she nodded. I smiled. I knew that I could count on Page. Ever since that night...outside of the hotel in Burkitsville, things had been different, yet the same. We were still confidantes, who could kill one another's bad moods with a simple look, only now...bad moods could be killed by simple kisses, too. I smiled when she agreed to let me take the lead, then looked at Dean.

Dean huffed out a sigh and nodded his head. "Alright, fine. But I'm not lettin' him hurt anybody else," he said as he opened the glove compartment of the Impala and grabbed a gun. That was fine. I could agree to that, especially since my loved ones were going to be in the room now.

I nodded and let go of Dean's arm, letting him get out of the car, and watching as he let Page out, too. I carefully thought of what I could say to this kid, who had been through worse hell than I had, and got out of the car myself. We walked into the house, Page walking close by me, and Dean on the other side of her. I raised my hand to knock, but...Dean shook his head and pointed at the window. "We have to get in there. Now!" she said. I followed her hand, to see that, just as in my vision, Ms. Miller was chopping vegetables for dinner, and crying, and the knife was rattling on the table once she set it down. I reached for the door and opened it quickly.

Ms. Miller looked at us, starting with Page, then to Dean, then me. "Sister Christian?" she asked in amazement, raising her eyebrows. I inwardly cursed Dean for giving Page the name 'Sister Christian.' He needed to start coming up with ideas for names that DIDN'T come from 70's songs. "Fathers?"

Max stared at us like we had three heads. "What are you doing here?" he asked with an indignant scoff.

Page ran a hand through her hair and looked between the two of them nervously. "Uh, sorry to interrupt," she said, then looked at me. She knew what I wanted her to do, so she spoke up for me. "Max, could we, uh—could we talk to you outside for just one second?"

Max glared at her, like he was trying to burn a hole in her head. "About what?"

I stepped in, smiling at Page, thanking her silently for the help. "It's—it's private," I spoke nervously. I wasn't sure what to say from there, but I kept going anyway. All I knew was that Dean's way? Was not the right way to handle this. "I wouldn't wanna bother your mother with it. We won't be long at all, though. I promise."

Max glanced from Dean, to Page, then to me, and shrugged a little. "Okay," he said simply.

I smiled and nodded toward the living room. "Great..." I said, putting a hand on Page's shoulder as we made our way into the living room.

I was pondering what to say, and I think I'd decided to just stick with honesty, and tell Max about my dreams. Tell him about what happened. I turned around and prepared to say something, when I heard Max explode at us. "You're not priests! And you're non a nun!" he shouted, pointing at the three of us. Dean swallowed hard and pulled the gun from his pocket, aiming it at Max, only to have it telekinetically jerked from his hands and drop to the floor. Max leaned down to pick it up and pointed it at the three of us.

And in perfect timing, Ms. Miller walked into the room, and looked at Max in surprise. "Max, what's happening?!" she asked him, staring at the scene before her eyes. "What are you doing?!"

"Shut UP!" Max shouted at her, flashing her a death glare, listening as she asked what he was doing, then jerked his head, sending Ms. Miller flying backward into a kitchen counter, then to the floor, unconscious. "I said shut up!" he hollered at her unconscious form.

I watched Page jump and sort of hide behind me, and I held my hands out. "Max, calm down!" I said to him, putting one hand on Page's arm as she was behind me.

"Who are you?!" Max snapped indignantly, pointing the gun at us still.

Page was burying her face in my shoulder from behind me, and I spoke again. "We just wanna talk to you," I told him.

"Yeah, right, that's why you brought this!" Max shouted.

"That was a mistake, alright?" I said with a glare in Dean's general direction. "So was lying about who we were, but no more lying, Max, okay? Just, please—just hear me out..." I felt Page sniffle into the back of my jacket, and felt a twinge of nervousness course through me. I wasn't talking myself out of this. I was talking for three of us. Four, if I included Ms. Miller. Which I did, but...what I cared about the most was that I got Page, Dean and I out of here safely.

Max's face softened a little. "About what?"

I tried to think through the best way to put this, and took a step forward, gently pushing Page in Dean's direction. "I saw you do it," I told him with a nod, glancing quickly over my shoulder to make sure that Page was okay. She was clinging to Dean, crying in his shoulder, but that was okay. She was safer there, because she wasn't right in the face of this...killer. "I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened."

"What?" Max raised an eyebrow.

I nodded my head. "I'm having visions, Max. About you," I told him.

"You're crazy," he shouted, incredulously.

I scoffed and tilted my head a little. "So, you weren't gonna launch a knife at your stepmom?" I asked him, raising a hand to point at my eye, as I'd seen in my vision. "Right here? Is it that hard to believe, Max?" I shrugged. "Look what you can do. Max, I was drawn here, alright? I think I'm here to help you."

"No one can help me!" he cried out in frustration.

I looked around nervously, noting that the light fixture above us was beginning to shake. "Let me try," I semi-pleaded with him. "We'll just talk. Me and you. We'll get Dean, Page and Alice out of here..." I said. I knew one thing for sure. I didn't want Page here...just in case.

"Nuh-uh. No way," Dean shook his head, and I glanced over to see Page's head peek up.

"Nobody leaves this house!" Max screamed, and I saw Page jump and put her face back in Dean's shoulder.

Dean hugged Page a little tighter and interjected. "Sam, I'm not leaving you alone with him."

I turned toward Dean and spoke in a quiet tone. "Yes, you are," I turned back to Max and kept my tone calm, though worry was coursing through me like a wave. "Look, Max, you're in charge here, alright?" I told him, biting my lower lip when Page looked nervously at Dean. "We all know that. No one's gonna do anything that you don't want to, but I'm talkin' five minutes here, man."

"Sam..." Dean spoke up, but I didn't let him continue.

"Five minutes," Max seemed to calm down a little, and looked at Dean and Page. "Go."

I watched Page shudder and follow Dean to help Ms. Miller up, then pause at my side as she went back by. "Sam...be care--"

"NOW!" Max shouted, and Page ran as fast as she could with Ms. Miller's weight on her shoulders, and in that moment, I almost regretted my decision. Especially when I saw the fear-filled look on her face when she walked up the stairs. I swallowed hard and nodded to the couch.

"Let's sit..." I said to Max, walking over to the couch and taking a seat, watching as he sat in a chair a ways away from me. He stared, intently at a letter opener on the table beside him and put it up on it's tip. "Look, I can't begin to understand what you went through..." I started, the way he was twirling that letter opener making me a bit antsy. At any second, he could snap and throw the letter opener at me.

His eyes didn't move from the letter opener, and it was tilting back and forth on the table. "That's right, you can't," he told me bluntly.

I sighed and shook my head at him. "Max, this has to stop," I told him softly, frowning a little.

Max shrugged. "It will. After my stepmother."

"No. You need to let her go," I shook my head.

"Why?" he asked.

And with that, the letter opener started spinning on the table, and my heart started beating a bit faster. I tried not to let it show. "Did she beat you?" I asked him.

"No. But she never tried to save me, she's a part of it, too..." he said. He was right, but...I couldn't tell him that.

I sighed. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to do this, so I simply tried to identify with him. "Look, what they did to you, what they all did to you, growing up—they deserve to be punished."

Max scoffed. "Growing up?" he asked, and stood up. "Try last week..." he raised his shirt and showed me the bruises. "My dad still hit me, just in places people wouldn't see it. Old habits die hard, I guess..." he said and sat back down in the chair.

Shock befell my face, and a mixture of that and sadness culminated in the pit of my stomach. I frowned. "I'm sorry..." I whispered, glancing back up to meet his eye.

Max spoke up again, and the letter opener started to twirl a little faster. "When I first found out I could move things, it was a gift..." he started. "My whole life I was helpless. But now I had this. So, last week, Dad gets drunk—first time in a long time. And he beats me to hell—first time in a long time. And then I knew what I had to do."

I swallowed a nervous lump in my throat and felt my heart rate escalate even more. This could not be healthy for me. "Why didn't you just leave?" I asked, and then the letter opener dropped to the table. I swear, in that moment, I must have leapt three feet off the couch.

Max shook his head and glared at me. "It wasn't about getting away—just knowing that they'd still be out there," he said sadly. "It was about not being afraid. When my dad used to look at me, there was hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like?"

I shook my head. Sure, I always saw disappointment and anger. But there was always love mixed in. And then, with Page's dad, Danny, I saw love. So, I never had to deal with that feeling. "No."

"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my mom's death..."

I raised an eyebrow and stared at him for a second. His father blamed him for...oh God. "Why would he blame you for your mom's death?" I asked. This poor kid.

Max nodded. "Because she died in my nursery. While I was asleep in my crib." I felt my eyes widening in shock. The same way...my mother—oh shit. "As if that makes it my fault."

I was still trying to piece this together. "She died in your nursery?" I repeated.

"Yeah. There was a fire. And he'd get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up. Pinned to the ceiling..." Max said. Shock befell my face, but it clicked in my brain why this was happening.

I took a deep breath and told myself inwardly that this was what I needed to do. How I could fix this. "Listen to me, Max. What your dad said about what happened to your mom—it's real..."

Max glared at me. "What?"

I nodded and scratched my head. "It happened to my mom, too. Exactly the same—my nursery, my crib. My dad saw her on the ceiling...and the same thing...killed my friend Page's whole family. Maybe not in the same way, but--"

"Then your dad must have been as drunk as mine."

"No. No, it's the same thing, Max. The same thing killed our mothers..." I told him. God, he had to believe this. He believed in his powers, so this wasn't...exactly outlandish for him. At least it shouldn't be.

"That's not possible."

I tried to think of the best way to put this. Flat out truth had gotten me this far. So, maybe I should stick with it. "This must be why I've been having visions during the day. Why they're getting more intense. 'Cause you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities—they started six, seven months ago, right? Out of the blue?" I asked, hoping I wasn't losing it.

He looked at me again, shock still plastered on his face. "How'd you know that?"

I grinned a little bit at him. Maybe...I could finally have someone to relate to in all this. Page was fantastic and Dean was great, but...God, having someone who understood what I was going through on a real, true level? Would be amazing. I kept talking. "Because that's when my abilities started, Max. I mean, yours seem to be much further along, but still, this—this means something, right? I mean, for some reason, you and I—you and I were chosen..."

Max looked incredulous. "For what?"

I shrugged my shoulders and bit my lower lip. I should have known that he'd ask that. "I don't know. But Dean, Page and I—my brother, my friend and I, we're hunting for your mom's killer..." I told him with a small smile. "And we can find answers. Answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go. You gotta let your stepmother go."

Max stood up. "No. What they did to me—I still have nightmares! I'm still scared all the time, like I'm just waiting for their next beating! I'm just tired of being scared. If I do this, it'll be over!" he said, beginning to walk to the stairs.

I shook my head and kept talking, trying as hard as I could to stop him. "No, don't you get it?" I pleaded with him to stop. "It won't. The nightmares won't end, Max, not like this. It's just more pain. And it makes you as bad as them. Max, you don't have to go through all this by yourself..." I swallowed hard. This was...really a last ditch effort.

He shook his head again. "I'm sorry..." he said, and nodded his head toward an open closet door.

And before I could even take a step to get out of the way, I felt my body being flung backward, into the closet. I reached for the door, but...before I could even touch it, I heard a large object sliding in front of the door. "No!" I shouted, and started pounding on the closet door. My mind raced. Page. Dean. They were...I pounded harder. "No, Max! No! Max!" I shouted, but to no avail.

"_Max!" Ms. Miller's voice permeated my ears, filled with anguish as Max entered the room, gun in hand. But Max let go of the gun and it hovered in the air, toward Page, Dean and Ms. Miller. "No. Max..." she pleaded. Dean, who was patching up Ms. Miller's wounds, started toward Max._

_Max moved the gun along with Dean. "Stay back. It's not about you..." he said to Dean._

_Page took a couple steps forward and stood between Max, Dean and Ms. Miller. "If you want to kill them, you have to go through me first..." she said, trying to play the hero, in typical Page fashion._

"_Okay..." Max said simply and the trigger pulled on the gun, the shot going through Page's head...and...hitting Dean in the shoulder. Both of them fell to the floor, and the wall behind them was completely covered in blood...and they were...Page was dead and Dean...oh God._

I snapped out of it, my head in searing pain and swear creeping down my forehead. But...usually when my visions stopped, the pain stopped. Why was it still...hurting? I didn't care. How was I going to get out of this? Page...and Dean...were both going to die if I didn't...I couldn't think straight. My head...was in so much pain. "No. No!" I shouted, and...god, the pain. It was...it was unbelievable. I shouted at the top of my lungs, and...wait. I heard the scraping sound of the cabinet moving away from the closet door. I stood there for a second, wondering why and how it had suddenly gotten brighter in the closet, and pushed on the door. It opened, and without a seconds hesitation, I rushed up the stairs, to the room that Dean, Page and Ms. Miller were in.

I heard Page's voice as I got closer to the door. "If you want to kill them, you have to go through me first," she said.

I heard Max say his 'okay,' and grabbed the doorknob, flinging the door open. The gun moved a couple of inches to the right, and went off...and I gasped, watching as Page, rather than falling to the floor, clutched her arm. I was about to advance and help her, when my grasp on the situation came back, and the gun turned and pointed at Dean again. "No, don't! Don't! Please..." I pleaded with him. "Please, Max. Max, we can help you, alright? But this—what you're doing—it's not the solution. It's not gonna fix anything..." I told him.

Max looked at me, simply staring for a moment. After a second, he nodded, then moved the gun from Dean. "You're right," he said.

I smiled. Good...so, maybe all it took was my using my powers to overcome a seemingly impossible situation to—wait. No. "No!" He was turning the gun on himself and...my eyes widened as the gun went off, and Max's blood covered me. I stared as he fell to the floor, and Page, Ms. Miller and Dean all stood there, stunned. I glanced forward and locked eyes with Page. Dean was telling Ms. Miller to point him to a phone so that he could call 911, and all I could do was just...stare at Page. I took a couple of steps forward and wrapped my arms around her gently. "Are you..."

She nodded and looked at her arm. "Yeah. It hurts, but...I'm...alive..." she spoke in a tearful voice as she caught a glimpse of Max's body. "God. He...he was going to..."

I reached up and moved a piece of hair from Page's face. "But he didn't. I...wasn't about to let that happen, okay? I'm here for you, Page. I promise..." I told her. It was true. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips again, and she buried her face in my shoulder. If it came down to it? I would take a bullet for that woman. I smoothed her hair back once more and kissed her on the forehead, as we slowly made our way down the stairs to get her patched up and talk to the police.


	18. 37MM

Both Dean and the cop, Kathleen had told me to try and stay calm. But it was impossible to stay calm when your best friend had been taken captive by...god, I didn't even know what. Dean, Sam and I had been getting ready to leave a bar, Sam and I waiting outside for Dean, who, in true Dean fashion, had drank himself to the bathroom. So, we waited outside. Which was awesome. Because it meant more kissing. It was strange that our friendship had turned into that, but it had, and I wasn't going to change it for anything. However, Dean took forever in the bathroom. Fifteen minutes, which, with Dean, usually meant he'd found himself at the bar again. Sam sent me in to find out what was taking him so long, and of course, once again in typical Dean fashion, I found him shamelessly flirting with a busty blonde. And before we could even walk out, he insisted on getting her number. I rolled my eyes and walked outside with him. But...when we finally got back outside, Sam was nowhere to be found, and their dad's journal lay open on the hood of the Impala. We looked and asked everywhere for Sam, but he was...nowhere. It was like he'd disappeared.

We sought out the help of a police officer, Dean called himself Officer Gregory Washington, and I got stuck with the sorrowful name of Detective Prudence Blanton. And the deputy who'd agreed to help us, a kind woman, sort of by the books, Deputy Kathleen Marshall, had fallen for it, hook line and sinker. Thankfully. So, there I sat in the back of her car, following a lead to God only knows where. After a long, looming silence, Kathleen was the first to speak. "Okay, the next traffic cam is fifty miles from here, and the pickup didn't pass that one, so…"

Dean bit his lower lip and nodded his head. He felt guilty about this, I could tell. And it was making him nervous. I felt bad, but I was more worried about Sam than Dean at the moment, especially considering we had no idea where Sam was—other than that it was in a fifty mine radius of where we were right then. "So, it must've pulled off somewhere. I didn't see any other roads here..."

Kathleen shrugged and showed Dean a look of uncertainty. I could tell that she wasn't sure she could trust us—and rightfully so, especially considering we'd so successfully pulled the wool over her eyes so far. "Well, a lot of these backwoods properties have their own private roads," she told us.

Dean sighed. "Great."

I was silent, mainly because I couldn't think of anything to say. I watched Dean for a second, and sighed sadly. Was the stupid cage that they put in police cars not in my way, I would have reached up and put a hand on his shoulder, but I simply glanced in the mirror at him, and we shared a worried gaze. My eyes wandered from Dean to Kathleen, who seemed to be staring intently at her computer. Maybe she had information on Sam! I sat up straight and tried to get a glimpse at the computer screen, only to have Kathleen narrow her eyes slightly. "So, Gregory, Prudence?"

I saw out of the corner of my eye as Dean turned to look at her, and did the same. "Yeah?" I finally spoke up. I figured I'd been silent for long enough, and the dubious look on Kathleen's face...was telling me that it was a good idea.

She glanced at me, and then back at Dean. "I ran your badge number," I think Dean practically dropped a brick out of his ass in that second, which was okay, because I probably had, too. "It's routine when we're working a case with state police. For accounting purposes and what have you," she shrugged a shoulder and then glanced back at me.

I nodded my head and smiled securely. "Mmhmm..." I said, trying to hold back the fact that I was freaking out on the inside.

She pulled the car over to the side of the road and looked back at us. "And, uh, they just got back to me..." she crossed her arms and glanced at the computer screen again. "It says here your badges were stolen..." she chuckled lightly, and I glanced at Dean, who looked surprised. I mimicked his reaction and looked back at Kathleen. "And there's a couple pictures of you guys, too."

Dean and I glanced at the computer screen, and my heart sank. Gregory Washington was a large, African-American male, and Prudence Blanton was, well...she looked like her name sounded. Bland and pasty, with dull brown hair and flat blue eyes. Dean, on the rare occasion that he should have just shut up and let me do the talking, spoke up. "I lost some weight..." he chuckled lightly and pointed at me. "She got one of those extreme makeovers...and color contacts. And...I have that Michael Jackson skin disease..."

Kathleen pushed a button and locked the back doors. "Okay, would you step out of the car, please?" she asked Dean with an annoyed glance.

I closed my eyes and thought for a second. I couldn't let this happen. We had to find Sam. Whatever that was...it couldn't kill him. "Look, look, look," I called to her, watching in amazement as she stopped. "If you wanna arrest us, that's fine. We'll cooperate, I swear..." I saw out of the corner of her eye that Dean was scoffing and glaring at me, but I shot him a glare in return. "But, first, please—let us find Sam..." I pleaded with her. But she was unwaivering in her duties. And I was rapidly losing hope.

She glared at me. "I don't even know who you are. Or if this Sam person is missing."

I felt tears coming to the corners of my eyes and I put my hands together in a pleading gesture. "Look into my eyes and tell me if I'm lying about this...please..." I felt the lump in my throat rising.

She scoffed and pointed at the computer screen again. "Identity theft? You're impersonating an officer!"

Dean spoke up, finally. Thank God, because I was running out of ideas. "Look, here's the thing. When we were young, I pretty much pulled him from a fire," he told Kathleen, his eyes starting to glaze over. He was either a really good actor, or, for God's sake, Dean Winchester had feelings. "And ever since then, I've felt responsible for him. Like it's my job to keep him safe. I'm just afraid if we don't find him fast—please," I heard his voice begin to break, and looked over at Kathleen. "He's my family."

She shook her head, though for a second, she looked...like she might have believed him. "I'm sorry. You've given me no choice. I have to take you in..." she told us. I leaned back in my seat and felt one of the tears making their way down my cheek, and I glanced up at Kathleen again. She was...staring at a photograph on the visor of her car. I glanced at it. It was of her, and a man, and they were both smiling. They looked...too much alike to be married. I frowned. "After we find Sam Winchester..." she added to the end.

I stared at her, and then watched Dean turn around to look at me. I wasn't sure what to do from there, but I figured, choking out a , "Thank you," was a good place to start. I ran a hand through my hair as she re-buckled her seatbelt, and we took off again.

We were all silent on the ride back to town. And when we went to get coffee too. I stood close to Dean, taking a slight bit of comfort in the fact that his arm was around me. I guess the Winchester men were really good at that, it was just...one of Dean's more subtle traits. We walked out of the coffee shop, and Dean's arm was still around me. I leaned into him and got opened the back door of the cop car when we approached it. Dean cleared his throat and spoke up. "Hey, Officer? Look, I don't mean to press my luck..."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Your luck is so pressed," she said. I couldn't help but laugh at that, either. Dean cast me a glare, and my laugh turned into a simple smirk.

Dean laughed a little and nodded. "Uh..." he nodded and continued speaking. "Right. I was wondering—why are you helping us out, anyway? Why don't you just lock us up?" he asked her. And I wanted to smack him. Just like Dean, to always look a gift horse in the mouth and never think that there may be consequences to his actions.

I expected her to turn around and slap the cuffs on us, but...she paused and bit her lower lip sadly. She was actually going to answer him. "My brother, Riley, disappeared three years ago," she said sadly. "A lot like Sam. We searched for him, but—nothing. I know what it's like to feel responsible for someone, and for them—" she trailed off and looked at the pavement before her. "Come on. Let's keep at it."

Conversation was pretty lacking on the search through the fifty mile stretch of road, but that was mainly because we were all staring out the window. I was about to freak out and say something about never finding him, when about fifty feet in the distance, I caught sight of a small turnoff. "Wait, wait, wait—pull over here. Pull over!" I said. She obeyed, and we got out of the car, getting out and heading for the woods. "It's the first turn-off I've seen so far..." I told them."

Kathleen nodded and looked from one of us to the other. "You stay here, I'll check it out..." she said.

And both Dean and I took a step forward to object, but Dean, as usual, was the one to speak up. "No way," he told her, glancing from Kathleen to me.

Kathleen stopped walking and glared at Dean and I. "Hey," she spat. If looks could kill, Dean and I would both be dead, buried and decomposing at that moment. "You're civilians. And felons, I think. I'm not taking you with me."

I shook my head and my eyes pleaded with her. "You're not going without us, either," I told her.

My face rose when she sighed heavily, as though in defeat, and rolled her eyes. "Alright. You promise you won't get involved?" she asked Dean, then looked at me. "You'll let me handle it?" she finished, to which Dean and I both nodded. She extended a hand toward us. "Shake on it," she said to Dean first.

Dean shook her hand and my jaw fell agape when I saw her slap a pair of handcuffs on him. "Shit..." I whispered, and glanced over my shoulder, taking off in a run for the woods. I had a plan. As soon as Kathleen was a safe distance away, I'd come back out, free Dean and we'd go assess the situation together. I followed the beaten path a little ways and then rushed off, hiding behind a bit of brush, to see Kathleen cuffing Dean to the door handle to her car and locking it. Pretty ingenious, actually. I watched her walk away, saying something about finding me and locking me away.

I heard Kathleen saying something about taking me in, and laughed a little. Dean scoffed and pulled on the cuffs. "This is ridiculous. Kathleen, I really think you're gonna need my help!" he shouted after her as she started to walk away.

"I'll manage. Thank you," she said, and started to walk away. I rolled my eyes and watched her start down the path. She made it past me, and I waited until she was out of sight, before sneaking out of the woods and walking back off the path, toward Dean.

As I approached, I heard Dean mutter, "I gotta start carrying paper clips."

I laughed inwardly and reached into my pocket for something, anything to use to free him. Change. No. Gum, no. I smirked when I caught sight of the bobby pin and approached him from the other side of the car, watching him trying to stretch out and grab the antenna of the cop car. It was...kind of sexy, actually. Had I not been so wrapped up in Sam, I probably would have...no. No, I wouldn't have. "Would a bobby pin do?" I asked him, a sly grin on my face.

I swear, he leapt about three miles into the air and stared at me like I was the second coming of Jesus. He got a relieved look on his face and nodded his head. "Page Marie Fabrizzio, have I ever told you how absolutely ecstatic I am to have you along with us on this hunt?" he asked me as he watched me lean down and start to pick the lock. "When did you learn to pick locks?" he asked, still staring like I was some godly being.

I laughed a little and shrugged as the lock opened. "Ecstatic? No. I thought you were the one who said that I would only slow you down?" I smirked and opened the cuffs, watching as Dean grinned at me. "I do pick up a thing or two watching you and Sam do your thing..." I told him with a grin.

I was about to say something else, when I heard the screech of a pickup truck in the distance, and Dean and I rushed off down the trail. When we were sure we were a safe distance away, we slowed down to a speed walk. "Hey, Page?" Dean asked me. "You know...Sammy's really lucky?"

I raised an eyebrow at Dean and shrugged a shoulder. "Why do you say that?" I asked him. Yes, Dean and I had become quite good friends over the past few months. But this was the first compliment I ever recalled him giving me. So, I was slightly weirded out.

Dean shrugged and grinned at me. "I know how you feel about him, Pagey..." he said, and I blushed. Partly because no one had called me Pagey since...Dylan. And it squicked me out. But also because I thought I was relatively certain that no one knew how I felt about Sam. At least I had been until then. I didn't say anything, just let Dean keep talking. "You'll be good to him. You care so much about him...and everyone that you come across, really. Hell, you took a bullet for me, essentially. Page, you and Sam should be togeth--"

Before I could think of anything to say, I'd stood on my tip-toes and pressed my lips to Dean's cheek. I smiled at him. "Thanks, Dean. I...needed to hear that. Really. You're sweet," I told him, and watched as his face turned red. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone..." I stuck my tongue out at him.

Dean grinned at me and shrugged a shoulder. "Of course. I want to see my brother happy, and you're great...for Sam. You and he have been through so much together, and...you could make...Sam...really happy..." he told me. He was acting kind of...weird. Even for Dean. But when I was about to ask, Dean pointed into the distance at a small shed. "Hey...what's that?" he asked, and we both rushed toward the area. As we neared the shed, I looked for a window to peer through, but when we didn't see one, we stood back to the door on either side and listened for any noise. It was a dilapidated shed, but not so much that we could hear what was going on inside. I looked around and pointed at a house nearby. Dean nodded. "You go check that out. I'll check it out in here."

I nodded and hurried toward the house, turning back and glancing over my shoulder to see Dean opening the door and going into the shed. I continued toward the house and walked up to the door, opening it quietly and entering. It was dark. Really dark, actually. I grabbed a flashlight from my jacket pocket and started to look around. The room was covered in shelves each of which housed jars and bottles full of...body parts? "Ew..." I whispered and grabbed one of the containers from a shelf. God, what was that? I didn't even want to know. I shuddered and put the container back in place, then continued to look around. There were a ton of Polaroids on a wall...and upon closer examination, I found that they all were of the same thing, essentially. A group of people surrounding a corpse as though it were a hunting trophy. "Freaks..." I said quietly.

I headed toward a flight of stairs and climbed them slowly. I heard the sound of an old record in the background, along with the sound of a butcher knife coming from the other room. What in the hell had I gotten myself into? I breathed deeply. I was trained for this, and Sam had done a damn good job training me. I looked around the room for something—anything I could use as a weapon and leaned down when I saw a thick wooden pole. I took it in my hand and peered around the corner, watching as...god, an old looking man was chopping something up. I didn't even want to know what. He went to turn around, but I quickly whirled back around the corner and headed to the living room instead. I saw a tray of keys on the other side of the room and walked slowly and carefully toward it. As I was reaching to pick it up, I saw...oh, God, what was it? A jar of...teeth? I didn't touch it, but stared at it for a second, in absolute horror, until I heard the floor creak behind me. I jumped and turned around, preparing to hit whoever it was, but...it was a little girl. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Shh. It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you..." I told her calmly.

She smiled a toothy smile, and I noticed, upon looking closer, that her teeth were rotting away. I suppressed a shudder, only to hear her say, "I know," and stick a knife through my jacket, virtually pinning me to the table. "DADDY!" she screamed.

I shook my head and tried to calm her. "No...no, it's okay...I..." I stopped dead when I heard two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. "Fuck..." I whispered, when the two large men came into view. I screamed, hoping that Dean would hear me from the shed. "DEAN! SAM! KATHLEEN! ANYONE! DEAN!" I shouted, but before I could get anything else out, one of them grabbed me from behind and put his hand over my mouth. The smell of his hand was...a mix of gasoline and dirt, and I fought against him as much as I could, throwing an elbow back and connecting it to his rib cage, then heading for the stairs again, only to be cut off on my way there by something heavy hitting me on the back of the head. And I don't remember anything after that.

Until..."Come on, let us hunt her. She'd make a really pretty trophy..."

"And she's a fighter, too...sure would be fun to hunt..."

I opened my eyes, and felt a searing pain in the back of my head. I tried to bring myself back into the real world and when I heard the word hunt, that did it. "Hunting? What the hell?" I scoffed, trying to move, only to realize that my hands were tied behind my back. "You...hunt people?"

"You ever killed before?" the man I'd seen in the kitchen asked me. I shook my head no, figuring the more I cooperated, the less likely I'd be to be killed. "I've hunted all my life. Just like my father, his before him. I've hunted deer and bear—I even got a cougar once. But the best hunt is human. Oh, there's nothin' like it. Holdin' their life in your hands. Seein' the fear in their eyes just before they go dark. Makes you feel powerful alive."

My jaw was agape, and I felt bile rising in my throat. "That's disgusting...you are fucking disgusting!"

He laughed and took a step toward me. Fucking creep was going to try and defend himself to me? Like that would actually work. "We give 'em a weapon. Give 'em a fightin' chance," he told me. Right. Like that made it okay. "It's kind of like our tradition passed down, father to son. Of course, only one or two a year. Never enough to bring the law down, we never been that sloppy."

I scoffed and looked around the house. "I'd definitely call this sloppy."

He glared at me and got down in my face. "The cops around here sure are pretty. You a cop?" he asked me, a worried look on his face. I shook my head no, and he kept talking. "Only reason I don't let my boys take you right here and now is that there's something I need to know..." he grabbed a poker to stoke the fire and turned around to walk toward me. I had a witty comment about incest, but decided not to use it, since he was advancing on me with a stoker, and it was...burning. I glared at him and waited for him to ask his question. "Tell me—any of the cops gonna come lookin' for you?"

I laughed. "You think I wanna fucking tell you that?"

He scoffed at me and put his hands on the arms of the chair, standing right in my face. "You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family. Alright, you wanna play games? We'll play some games. Looks like we're gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys..." he looked at his sons and laughed a little. "And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop?"

Well...I hadn't expected that. I didn't say anything at first, but I saw him bring the stoker closer to me, and felt it burning against my skin, through my shirt. I shouted in pain, and when I was about to choose, I heard the door fly open. And there was Dean. "DEAN!" I shouted.

Dean took a couple steps forward, only to be grabbed by one of the guys and shoved into the wall. And the father spoke up again. "Lee, take the boy. Don't let him out, though. Shoot him in the cage."

I gasped and shook my head. No, they...they gave the others a fighting chance. "What? I thought you said you were going to hunt him. You have to give him a chance!" I shouted.

"Lee, when you're done with the boy—shoot the bitch, too..." he told the guy before he left the room. "Better clean this mess up before any more cops come runnin' out here."

I struggled against the ropes and panicked. "Sam...no..." I shouted.

Dean looked at me and I watched as the father grabbed another chair, tying him next to me. Over the next few minutes, we heard a gunshot, and my heart sank as I choked out a sob. "You hurt my brother, I'll kill you, I swear. I'll kill you all. I will kill you all!" I heard him shouting as they were tying him up.

The father shouted out. "Lee!" he called to the guy he'd sent to kill Sam. But after a few seconds, he didn't respond. "Jared, you come with me. Missy, you watch them now..." he told the little girl, who had been silent the whole time, but took a step toward me, and held a knife up to my eye as they walked out of the room.

I let her menace me, because out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dean...working to untie the knot that they'd tied around his wrists. I felt tears streaming down my cheeks and looked at the girl. She smiled at me, then breathed in my face, and I think she was going to spit on me, when Dean hauled back and hit her over the head with the jar of teeth. She fell onto my lap, and I watched Dean pick her up and put her in a closet, shoving a metal beam through the door handles to keep her there. He came up to me and knelt in front of me. "You okay, Page?"

I nodded my head, and when he untied my wrists, I threw my arms around him, crying. "Sam...he's..."

Dean bit his lower lip, and we stood up. "I don't know...it's...taking them an awful long time..." he said as he nodded toward the door. "If anyone can survive that...Sammy can. Want to..."

I nodded, and we headed toward the shed, nervously awaiting what was to come. If I lost Sam, after all we'd been through together...Christ, I didn't know what I'd do. I looked at Dean, who had an ecstatic look on his face, and I followed his gaze until I saw..."SAM!" I shouted and ran up to him, wrapping my arms around him, ignoring the burning pain in my shoulder from where they had burned me. I was just...glad that Sam wasn't dead. "Oh my God...I thought they..."

He pulled back from the hug and leaned down to press his lips to mine, holding my face in his hands. "No. I won't let them tear us apart that easily," he promised me, smoothing a hand over my hair and fixing it. I looked over my shoulder and saw Dean talking to Kathleen, then took this chance to stand on my tip toes, burying his lips in mine, to the point that I just kind of...lost the world. I didn't care when I heard Dean whistle in the background. I didn't care about any of it. I just wanted to be in Sam's arms right then. He closed his arms around me and returned my kiss, and all I could do was melt into him.

God, I loved the feeling I got when I was with him. Something I never wanted to end. And today reminded me that maybe, it was fleeting, and maybe, I couldn't wait forever to tell him how I felt. But, God, just the thought of it put my stomach into knots, and I realized that I couldn't do it. Not yet. I wasn't ready. I couldn't lose what we had, just because I wanted more. I stared into his eyes and smoothed his hair back again, before we turned and walked back toward Dean.


	19. Rinse

I sat on the bed, jealousy coursing through my veins and I was pretty sure anger was more than evident on my face. When Sam was out...some girl. Meg. I didn't even need to hear the rest. The look on his face when he saw her—my God, I was...I didn't even know. Dean sat across from me, and his face was full of concern. And anger, too. Sam had told her that we were keeping him against his will. I closed my fists and looked over at him. Fuck. I swear, I wanted to fucking kill something. And Dean was, like, encouraging him. I narrowed my eyes at Dean. "Why was I not enough, Dean? Why does he need to chase after Meg? I don't get it, I..." I walked over to Dean's bed and sat down beside him. I really, really needed the comfort of his arms right then. He put his arm around my shoulders and gently rubbed my upper arm. But I shoved away quickly. "AND WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU HELPING HIM? You know I love Sam and—you...GOD Dean, you're PRACTICALLY THROWING HIM INTO ANOTHER WOMAN'S ARMS!"

Dean shushed me gently and shook his head, swallowing hard. "What do you want me to do, Page? Just sit aside and let my brother wallow in his loneliness while you try and figure out if you're going to tell him or not? No. You either tell him or you don't. I want him to be happy either way!" he glared at me and I swear, I saw a really strange look on his face.

I felt tears playing at the corners of my eyes, and all of a sudden, Dean's arms were around me, holding me to him. I should have pushed away. But I couldn't. "Why...why am I not enough for him? Why have I never been enough for him? First Jess. Now Meg. FUCKING A, DEAN! I've been through HELL for him! I'd do it again if I had to and..." I buried my head in his shoulder for a second, emptying my tear ducts of whatever tears they had left to cry, and pulled back from the hug. "Why did you send him to her, Dean? Why couldn't you have just...told him to...I don't get it. He's probably fucking her now. He's probably professing that it's destiny that they met again like this. He's probably...forgetting that I exist. And...it could have been avoided if you...why?"

Dean bit his lip and swallowed hard. "I...don't know. It just felt...like the right thing to do, Page. I just did what I thought was...right. Sam deserves to be happy, too, you know?"

I shoved at him. "BUT SO DO I!" I screamed, feeling my chest shuddering with each breath. "YOU'RE SAYING IT LIKE I DON'T DESERVE TO BE HAPPY!" I shoved him away as he advanced at me. I was trying to cry, but my tear ducts were dry. I practically fell into him and sobbed against his shoulder. "D—Dean, why am I not enough for Sam?" I asked him, feeling my body shake as I pulled back from the hug. His face...was streaming with tears now too, and I reached up to wipe them away. For a second, I thought that maybe...I...I wasn't sure what I thought. But that moment of sadness on Dean's face...it floored me. "Why are we not enough for Sam...?" I asked softly.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and put a hand to my cheek. "I don't know..." he whispered to me, wiping a tear from my cheek. "But..." he smoothed some hair from my face. "We're...we're enough for each other..." he told me in a soft tone, and that look in his eyes...I...suddenly understood. What happened over the next couple of seconds...I couldn't explain, but, before I could stop myself, I had leaned upward and pressed my lips to Dean's, and pulled him to me in a deep, passionate kiss. I wasn't sure why. Or even what had made me want to. But, something about what Dean said...it made sense. Ever since we met, after he got over his resentment of me for interfering with their hunt, we'd always been enough for each other. We'd been able to rely on each other, and...he was right. Our foreheads were pressed together, and our breaths were on one another's faces...and God, it felt...right. I pushed Dean's flannel over-shirt from his shoulders and gently pushed him to the bed, and reveled in the feeling of his hands beneath my own shirt.

The next fifteen minutes was filled with a mix of sweat, lust and need. Not love. We didn't love each other. I knew we didn't love each other. Mainly because I didn't really know him. And Dean didn't really know me. But we both had a common need. And that was enough, especially considering that Sam and I...we didn't share that need. But Dean and I? We did. Hips crashed together, movements flowed and jerked, and sweat beads intermingled, and it all culminated into one final moment of release. I rolled off of Dean and lay beside him, trying to catch my breath and my thoughts all in one. I took a deep breath and looked at him. What did you say when you just fucked the man you love's brother? Thank you? No. That didn't cover it. Not I love you. Because we didn't. But...fuck, what in the hell was I supposed to say? And why did I feel an overwhelming feeling of guilt?

After a few minutes of just laying there in our own sweat, Dean's phone rang, and he leaned over to pick it up. Amy. The secretary he'd met. I listened to his side of the conversation, as we both gathered our clothes and put them on slowly. Dean tried to give me as much detail on his end. "Meredith...was what? Born where?" he asked. I looked at him as though he had two heads, and his jaw fell open. "Lawrence, Kansas? Really?" we exchanged shocked glances, "And...the other guy? Him too?" he cleared his throat. "Uh...um...not now, Amy. Um...yeah. I'll call you. Uh...bye..." he looked at me. "Apparently, both of them were from--"

I nodded and bit my lip. "Um...Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What...did we just do?"

"I...think we just..."

"I know that!" I scoffed.

"Well...other than that...I don't know."

"Why did we?"

Dean gave me a guilt ridden look and ran a hand through his hair. "Um...I don't know."

I shook my head. "Me...either. Um...but Dean?" he looked at me, and bit his lower lip.

"We...can't tell Sam about this..." he said, watching as I pulled my shirt back over my shoulders.

I shook my head insistently. "No. Never..." I told him. I wasn't sure how Sam would react. Not because he'd be jealous or anything, but...God, it would be way, way too awkward. "It'll be our little secret..." I nodded. Ever since I'd joined them on this hunt, Sam and I had never kept any secrets. But...something told me that this was one secret that was best kept to myself. And it was good that Dean agreed.


	20. Most of Me

Of all the mistakes I'd made in my life, I don't think any quite equaled up to this one. When Sam got home that night, from staking out Meg Masters' place, he told us what her issue was, and that he was right about her. That Dean had pushed him to her for no reason. And now, I felt like the scum on the bottom of a lake. When Sam had walked through the door, he and Dean exchanged 'I need to talk to you's' and...God, nervousness coursed through me like a blood disease. Was Dean going to—go back on what we'd talked about? I bit my lower lip and let them finish, but by the time they'd finished, I felt guiltier than I'd ever recalled feeling in my life. Sam walked up to me and put his hands on my face, pulling me to him in a deep, passionate kiss. My eyes widened, and Dean stood off to the side, probably unsure of what to say.

I leaned against Sam's chest and glanced over toward Dean, who looked at me with an uncertain look on his face. How in the hell were we going to do this? I was about to say something, but Sam looked between Dean and I and smiled. "Guys, I have to head out to the car and grab something. Think I can trust the two of you alone?" he asked with a smirk, and I faked a smile, then nodded my head. Sam turned and walked out of the room, a smile on his face.

I looked at Dean. "Keep it secret, right?" I asked when I was positive that Sam couldn't hear me.

Dean nodded and headed back over to his bed, taking out his phone. "We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse—it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can," I heard him say into the phone.

I sighed and put my head in my hands, massaging my temples and glancing up when I heard Dean's phone close. "Voice mail?" I asked him, watching as the door to the hotel room reopened and Sam walked in. God, how in the hell was I going to do this, if it had only been a couple hours and I was already about to burst at the seams and tell Sam everything?

Dean nodded at me and smiled a little. "Yeah," he said, turning his attention toward Sam. He raised his hand and pointed to the bags Sam was carrying. "Jesus, what'd you get?"

Sam shrugged and put the bag on the floor, smiling and and walking over beside me. "I ransacked that trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about a half-dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything," he said with a smile.

I got up and walked over to stand between the boys and half-laughed. "Big night..." I said to the both of them.

Sam nodded and smiled. "Yeah. You guys nervous?" he asked us with a shrug.

I shook my head and Dean spoke up. "No. Why, are you?" he asked Sam.

"No. No way," Sam responded, and we all went silent for a few seconds. "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

Dean half-laughed and looked at me, then back at Sam. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, all right?"

Sam smiled and looked at me, putting his hand on my arm briefly and then going back to loading his gun. "I know. I'm just saying, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school—be a person again..." he chuckled a little.

I frowned. I didn't know if I could do that. If we did it tonight? If we killed the demon tonight? I didn't know if I could just...go back. I didn't know if I could just...leave Dean like that. And plus, I had nothing to go back to. I looked at Sam and frowned a little. "You wanna go back to school?"

Sam nodded and smiled at me. "Yeah, once we're done hunting the thing."

Dean shrugged and finished loading his gun. "Huh..." he looked down.

Sam looked at us like we had just shot a kitten. "Why, is there something wrong with that?" he asked sadly.

I shook my head and looked at the floor. "No. No, it's, uh, great."

Dean nodded in agreement, though I could see that he was just as upset as I was. "Good for you..."

He smiled and put an arm around me, probably assuming that I was going to go with him. But...I still didn't know. He looked at Dean. "I mean, what are you gonna do when it's all over?"

Dean shrugged and looked from Sam, to me, then back to Sam again. "It's never gonna be over. There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be something to hunt..." he said, slightly indignantly.

Sam looked at Dean, concern on his face. "But there's got to be something that you want for yourself—"

Dean looked sad. "Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam..." he said in a soft, low tone.

Sam raised an eyebrow and looked at me, as though asking me for the answers. But I didn't have them. Especially not when it came to this, since I was...sort of on Dean's side here. He looked back at Dean. "Dude, what's your problem?" he asked.

Dean was quiet, and I really...felt bad. Dean...was lonely. I swallowed hard and, in that moment, I wondered if...that was a reason why he had wanted to...I wasn't sure what to say. "Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?" he asked. And...that reaffirmed it. Dean was lonely. I bit at one of my fingernails nervously.

Sam shrugged and ran a hand through his hair and removed his arm from around my shoulders, showing Dean a concerned glance. "'Cause Dad was in trouble. 'Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom..." he shrugged.

Dean shook his head. "Yes, that, but it's more than that, man," he said, falling silent and turning toward the dresser. He turned back around and looked at Sam again. "You and me and Dad—I mean, I want us….I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again," he finished. I understood Dean Winchester a lot better in that second. He strove for his own brand of normalcy. A normal family, together and fighting off whatever tried to hurt them. And just like Sam, he couldn't have it.

Sam sighed a little and tightened his arm around my shoulders. "Dean, we are a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before..." he said, and I saw another tinge of sadness in Dean's eyes.

"Could be..." he spoke in a broken voice.

Sam shook his head. "I don't want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever, and I don't think Page is, either. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me and Page go our own way..." he said, looking at me and smiling.

But I wasn't in a smiley mood. "Maybe I don't want to go back," I said in a low, quiet voice.

Sam looked at me, confused. "Huh?"

I shook my head and looked at Dean, then back at Sam. "N—nothing. Let's just go do this, okay?" I swallowed hard and grabbed my gun, loading it quickly and walking to the door, not even waiting for Sam or Dean. God, I hated this. What on Earth was coming over me? I'd spent the past five years in love with Sam, and in one evening, all of that went into question after a one nighter with Dean.

I sat in the back of the Impala, my head against the window, nervousness in my stomach at the lack of conversation. This was so fucked up. I let a moment of weakness get to me, and now I had to spend the rest of my life covering it up. My head bounced against the window as we turned onto the street that the warehouse was on, and I looked at Dean's reflection in the rear view mirror. We...needed to talk. Because I had no fucking clue what was going on. Sam had been...in my heart, my only one for years. So, what in the fuck was going on? We pulled over at the curb, and the three of us got out of the car. I followed the boys to an elevator shaft, climbing up quietly, grabbing onto Sam's hand and having him help me put my feet on the landing. I drew my gun, upon seeing the infamous Meg, speaking in Latin into a cauldron. We made our way, stealthily, over behind a stack of crates.

And when we thought we were in the clear, I heard Meg speak up. "Guys," she chuckled a little, and the three of us looked at each other in stunned silence. "Hiding's a little bit childish, don't you think?"

Dean frowned. "Well, that didn't work out like I planned..." he said softly.

I chuckled a little and shook my head. "I wouldn't imagine so..." I frowned.

Meg finally turned around and looked at us. "Why don't you come out?" she asked with a smirk, and the three of us obeyed. I looked Meg over. Honestly. She wasn't any prize. What did she have that I didn't? "Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship..." she said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

I rose my shotgun. I wanted to shoot her, kill her, disembowel her. Just get her the fuck out of my face. Stupid demoniacally possessed bitch. But I didn't. Something in my gut said that this was Sam's battle to fight. "Yeah, tell me about it..." Sam said.

Dean flashed me a glance, and I looked back at him quickly. I'm sure he saw the look on my face. But rather than say anything in front of Meg, he continued with our little interrogation. "So, where's your little Daeva friend?" he asked.

Meg smirked. "Around," she said, looking from Sam, to Dean, then to me. "You know, that shotgun's not gonna do much good," she nodded at the shotgun I was brandishing.

I scoffed and rose the gun again. With every word this fucking bitch spoke I wanted to shoot her more and more. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart..." I spoke sarcastically, my eyes narrowed to mere slits on my face. "The shotgun's not for the demon."

Meg chuckled a little. "Jealousy. Tacky..." she looked me up and down. "I thought that was above you, Page."

I rolled my eyes. "So is being a blonde bimbo and a fucking possessed whore, but you don't hear me complaining!" I glared at her.

Meg glanced at me. "You'd know all about being a whore, wouldn't you, Page?"

My eyes widened, and Dean and I exchanged nervous glances, but rather than show Sam our weakness, I glared at Meg again. "I have no fucking clue what you're talking about, you fucking trash heap."

Meg was about to say something else, but—thank God—Sam spoke up instead. "So, who is it, Meg? Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?" he asked her.

Meg smirked. "You."

Sam, Dean and I all glanced at each other, not knowing what was going to happen next, but we didn't get the chance to ask any questions. Before I could even open my mouth to speak, I felt a claw dig into my side, and I shouted in pain. I felt myself being flung back into a wall, and glanced up to see Sam hit the floor, with a huge gash in his face. And Dean got chucked into a stack of crates. I tried to stand, only to be attacked again, and after that, I was out cold.

This was the second time in the past couple of weeks that I'd woken up tied to something, and it was getting old fast. I heard Dean's voice a few feet away. "Hey, Sam? Don't take this the wrong way, but your girlfriend...is a bitch."

I chuckled a little, and shook my head, trying to dust off the cobwebs, when I heard Sam speak. "This, the whole thing, was a trap. Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearing what you had to say. It was all a set-up, wasn't it?" he asked, and the stupid little whore laughed. "And that the victims were from Lawrence?"

Meg smirked and took a couple steps toward Sam. "It doesn't mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that's all."

I finally spoke up, feeling the cobwebs going away. "You killed those two people for nothing..." I whispered.

Meg laughed again and glanced at me. "Honey, I've killed a lot more for a lot less..." she said, taking a couple steps toward me. "You have a pretty little face, you know that? It'd be fun to make it collapse..." I felt my eyes narrow and raised a foot to kick at her, but she leapt out of the way. "Fighter. That's sexy..."

I let out a mixture of a scoff and a laugh and narrowed my eyes. "You're disgusting," I told her.

Dean spoke up again, interrupting any chance Meg had to expose the two of us. "You trapped us. Good for you..." he spoke sarcastically. "It's Miller time..." he smiled, and I laughed. "But why don't you kill us already?"

Meg approached Dean and leaned in close. "Not very quick on the uptake, are we?" she asked with a slight chuckle. "This trap isn't for you..." she said, and I don't think Dean had pieced two and two together, since he just stared at her blankly.

Sam looked nervous. "Dad..." he explained to Dean. "It's a trap for Dad."

Dean laughed lightly and shook his head. "Oh, sweetheart—you're dumber than you look. 'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good..." he told her with a smirk.

Meg walked up to Dean and grinned, straddling his legs and taking a seat. The bitch called me a whore? I glared. "He is pretty good. I'll give you that..." she said to Dean. "But you see, he has one weakness."

Dean looked intrigued, and he looked at her, a smirk on his face. "What's that?"

Meg smirked. "You. He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he is in town. And he'll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody—nice and slow and messy..." she spoke with a bemused tone in her voice.

Dean chuckled a little. "Well, I've got news for ya. It's gonna take a lot more than some…shadow to kill him..." he told Meg.

"Oh, the Daevas are in the room here—they're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see..." she said, shrugging a shoulder.

Sam looked around nervously, then glanced back at Meg. "Why are you doing this, Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?" he asked.

Meg turned and started toward Sam, that same smirk on her face. God, how I wished I'd shot her when I had the chance. I wanted to watch her writhe. "I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do—loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy—and Jess," and in that second, the desire to watch her writhe tripled.

Sam glowered at her. "Go to hell."

Meg grinned madly at Sam. "Baby, I'm already there..." she said as she straddled Sam's lap. Fuck. I slid my arms around the rope and reached into my pocket for a knife, and started to cut at my ropes. "Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty," she grinned, turning her glance toward me as she leaned to whisper in Sam's ear. "I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me—changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it?" she wiggled her eyebrows at me.

Dean scoffed. "Get a room, you two."

"I didn't mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun..." she whispered to him, looking at me, still.

Sam spoke in an angry tone. "You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I'm a little tied up right now..." he said, and I saw a small smirk appear on his face. I think he'd noticed me using my knife.

Dean had been using his, too, and he was a little more careless with it. Maybe to be a distraction, because Meg heard him, walked over, grabbing the knife from Dean's hand and throwing it across the room. She walked back over to Sam and leaned back down. "Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?"

I heard Sam speak up. "No, no."

I stood up quietly while Meg was distracted, and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, whoreface..." I spat, watching as she stood up and looked at me, stunned. "I had a knife too," I smiled a bit while she was still stunned, and head-butted her, watching in amusement as she fell to the floor. "Stupid bitch."

Dean shouted to me. "Page! Get the altar!"

I nodded and rushed over to the altar, grabbing the underside of the table and knocking it to the floor. I saw one of the shadow demons appear, and drag Meg across the floor, out the window. "Fuck with us...go ahead..." I whispered at the window, then walked back to where the boys were, cutting them free, Sam first, then Dean. Together, the three of us walked toward the window. "So, I guess the Daevas didn't like being bossed around..." I said softly, as we noticed Meg's lifeless body, laying on the ground below.

Dean chuckled a little. "Yeah, I guess not," he turned his attention to Sam. "Hey, Sam?" he asked. Sam turned his head and looked at Dean. "Next time you wanna get laid, find a girl that's not so buckets-o'-crazy, huh?" he asked, subtly nodding his head toward me. I blushed, and so did Sam, and we watched as Dean walked away. I sighed and looked at Sam. "Sam..." I called his attention as he started to walk away, and when he turned around, I grabbed his shoulders, turned him to me, and stood on my tip-toes to kiss him, grabbing the back of his head to pull him closer. God, did I ever feel that. And that brought the confusion in my head even more to the foreground.

He raised an eyebrow and put an arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward the elevator shaft so we could climb down. "What was that for?" he asked as he lowered himself down.

I shrugged and smiled. "Just because I can..." I told him quietly, biting my lower lip and lowering myself down to climb down, too. God knows, that was all he could ever know.


	21. Stay

Any questions in this chapter will be answered in the sequel. :) And no, that does not mean I'm done with this part yet. I still have four-ish chapters left. ;)

* * *

"_You heard me right, Sammy. Your precious little Page slept with your brother, while you were out watching me in my window..."_

Meg's words repeated over and over in my head like a broken record. She was seconds from death, and with her last breaths, she told me that. At first, I didn't want to believe it. But when I put that together with how the two of them had been acting so strangely since that night? It made sense. A painful amount of sense. The past couple of months had been hell. So much hell that I really don't want to recall them. But I'll lay it down in simple terms. We'd almost been killed by a demon trucker in a car accident (well, we came closer to death than we'd come the other million times we squared off), dad was dead and I had found out from Meg, before we finally killed her, that Page had slept with Dean. Yeah, I was angry. At both of them. But, God...my dad had died and I wasn't sure how to handle it. This was the situation where I'd normally turn to Page. But I wasn't sure who I could count on.

Dean and I had been fighting constantly. And Page and I had barely spoken. And I hated it. What was a person to do when the two people you thought you'd always be able to count on had betrayed you and lied about it? For months, even? I guess, in both of their defenses, I hadn't actually told Page how I felt, and I was...really acting like I was interested in Meg. I sat at a table in Harvelle's Roadhouse, my head in my hands, my fingers entwined in my hair. Had I...pushed Page away? Right into my brother's arms? I sighed and raised my head, and that was when I saw...Page. She was sitting across the room, by herself. Doing the exact same thing I had been moments ago. I stood up. Sure, I was still mad, but she...was my best friend. And the look on her face when Meg spoke of what had happened...I knew that she really felt bad about it. It wasn't that I forgave or, or that made it okay, because it didn't. But it was a start.

I paused before I reached her and looked at her for a second. She was crying. That sound always slayed me. And it was no different this time around. I stayed back and cleared my throat, watching as she jumped a little and looked at me. God, that face would make even the guiltiest man in the world cry. But I tried to stop myself. "Why?" I asked her.

She wiped her cheeks and looked at me still. "Why?" she asked. As if she didn't get it. No. I knew she got it.

I nodded and leaned backward, against a table. "Yeah. Why? Why did you do it?" I asked in a sad tone. "Why didn't you...just ask me if I was interested in Meg?" I tried to hide the pained look on my face, and not to look into her eyes.

She looked at me indignantly. "I wasn't aware that who I slept with was your business, Sam," she looked away from me.

My eyes narrowed and I started to walk away. But, no. I was going to say my peace. I had been silent for way too fucking long, and I'd be damned if I was going to just...sit aside and let Page treat me like this. "It became my business the second we kissed in Burkitsville, Page. I don't know what the fuck you think gives you the right to fuck with my emotions like that but it isn't fucking right," I spat. I was furious, and the fact that she was just...doing this? Made it worse. "I can't believe you actually thought that I'd sleep with Meg!"

She stood up. "What was I SUPPOSED to think, Sam? Honestly? You disappear to follow Meg around—the same woman you spent a NIGHT with while Dean and I were being tormented in Burkitsville?" she paused, then turned and started to walk away, a pained, angry look in her eyes. But she had no right to be mad, did she? I was the one who'd been screwed with here, wasn't I? "Fuck you, Sam. Seriously. You just...don't get it."

I walked up to her and grabbed her arm, watching as she struggled to get away. "Make me get it..." I said as I watched her turn around and look at me. "I want to get it, Page. I...don't want to be angry at you..." I bit my lower lip and sighed deeply. "Or Dean. I...need you guys right now. Please...make me get it," I begged her, watching as her eyes softened. I needed the Page that used to hold me and make the pain go away. I needed my best friend back.

She let her arms drop to her sides, and looked up at me, the same tears playing at the corners of her eyes again. I don't know what she was going to say initially, but rather than whatever that may have been, she breathed in deeply and looked at me. "Why have I never been enough for you?" she asked, her eyes pleading with me.

I felt the confusion on my face setting in like a stone etching. "Enough for me?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow, and her face fell sad again. "What...do you mean enough for me?" I asked again, watching that sadness spread across her face again.

She frowned. "That's why...Dean and I...that's why we did it," she nodded. "Because we felt like we were enough for one another. We felt like...we weren't...falling short," she explained, biting her lower lip, and I still didn't get it. Not even close, actually. What did she mean, enough for me? She was more than enough for me. Did I...not show it enough? We kissed all the time, and I was pretty sure that I always showed her my appreciation. I was about to ask 'why' again, but I saw her yank away from me. "FUCK, Sam. I FUCKING love you, okay?" she screamed.

I raised an eyebrow again, and showed her a concerned glance, but thought nothing of this, since we always said we loved one another. She was my best friend. "I l--"

She shook her head. "No. Sam, you don't get it. I LOVE you. I love you. I 'Sam and Jess' love you. I 'Sam and every other woman we meet but Page' love you," she was sobbing uncontrollably. "I have since I was NINETEEN FUCKING YEARS OLD! But you were SO WRAPPED UP IN JESS that I just said 'fuck it.' And went with Bryon. Because he showed me attention. And I was lonely and getting sick of pining away for you," she shouted. I was about to say something, but she kept going. "So, naturally, I was fucking ecstatic when we kissed. Because I thought, MAYBE that could be a new leaf for us. But no. Meg. So, I got tired of waiting. And Dean was comforting. And understanding. And yes, we had sex."

I wasn't sure what to think. At the start of that, I had been all but ready to bust at the seams and tell her that I loved her, too. But by the time she finished, I was reminded that she had sex with my brother. So, rather than tell her how I feel, I grabbed her face and pulled her to me, kissing her like we did before we constantly fought. But she pushed away and glared at me. I wasn't sure what I'd done, or what I was supposed to do, either. "I..."

"I JUST TOLD YOU THAT I LOVE YOU AND I MORE OR LESS FELT USED AND WHAT DO YOU DO? USE ME MORE!" she turned and started to walk away. "FUCK, Sam. I don't understand you!" she stopped, and it was like a sudden realization dawned on her. She turned toward me and showed me a sympathetic look. "You...don't understand you, either, do you?" she asked me, walking back to me and putting a palm on my cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

I stared at her for a second, those sympathetic, soft eyes locked on mine, and I...exploded in tears, pulling her to me and sobbing on her shoulder. "I'm sorry...I..." I cried, clinging tightly to her shirt and holding her to me. Everything was just so confusing. All the pain in my life was culminating into that moment, and I released it all into her shoulder. Not knowing my mom. Jess dying. My dad dying. Page sleeping with Dean. This sudden confession of love that I seemingly...didn't notice for years. I squeezed her tightly and sobbed even harder. "I'm so sorry...I...am not using you, Page. I'm not. I promise. I'm...I'm sorry..."

Page pulled out of the hug and looked into my eyes. "I know. It's okay. I was...just...so hurt, Sam. I felt like..." she moved some hair from my face and looked at the door. "I think maybe you, Dean and I need to sit down and talk. Let's...go get him, okay?" she nodded out the door, toward where Dean was working on the car.

I nodded. She was right. We all needed to talk. I kept my arm around her shoulders and headed for the door to the roadhouse, but when we got there, I glanced outside and saw Dean, still leaned over the Impala, seemingly unwaivering in his gaze. I walked up behind him and sighed. I figured I'd start out small. Well, big, really, but...I'd bring Page in after. "You were right..." I told him, watching as he lifted his head from beneath the hood.

Page stood a bit of a ways away, leaning against an old car in the lot. "About what?" he asked.

I felt a lump forming in my throat and bit my lower lip. "About me and dad," I whispered, trying as hard as I could not to cry in front of Dean. "I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him. So you're right. What I'm doing right now, it's too little. It's too late. I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all. But neither are you. That much I know..." I said. "And...about...what happened with Page? I..." I pondered the best way to say this, but I figured up front would be the best way to go, "...forgive you. I'll let you get back to work," I said as I started to walk away.

I was almost at the door, Page by my side, when I heard the sound of glass shattering. And metal hitting metal repeatedly. Both Page and I turned around, and were about to rush over to him. But he had stopped. He was staring in awe at a woman, standing about fifty feet away and smiling at him. I'd only seen him with that look on his face once. With Cassie. But, god, this look exceeded that. It looked like he not...had actually fallen for her at one point. I opened the door quietly, and Page and I made our way though quickly, so Dean didn't see or hear us. And we listened to the scene as it unfolded before us. "Grace?" Dean whispered in a shocked tone.

Grace, as we now knew, took a step forward and nodded her head. "Hi, Dean..." she smiled sadly.

"Hi..." Dean's eyes widened. "Uh..."

Grace walked up to him, and stopped a couple feet in front of him. "I heard about your father, Dean. I'm...sorry."

I watched Dean hug her, and break down like I just had with Page, and decided that whoever this Grace woman was? She had it under control. Instead, I put my arm around Page and walked back inside the roadhouse. "I...think we should take a nap."

Page nodded, and turned to me when we got inside. "Yes. We should..." she said, pressing her lips to mine once more. And in that moment, I thought, maybe, things could be okay. Maybe.


	22. Water Runs Dry

It had been another interesting week. Emotionally draining. Something about this Grace woman had Dean in a constant tizzy, and it was really strange. She introduced Dean to her ten-year-old daughter? And it was almost like the child was...my jaw fell open. It...couldn't be. I pictured the girl, Cadence Desrosiers, in my mind, and thought for a second. She looked...a lot like Dean. A lot. And although it had taken him a talking to from Sam to let me go with them, this woman had come in, and he'd just let her follow us in her car, with her daughter and the girl's nanny. All Dean would tell me was that she was a hunter that he used to know, and that she was probably close to his dad's level, even though she was our age. If she had Dean's respect, she had to be something, though.

The nanny, Piri Sullivan? Was someone I wouldn't trust with a child. She was our age, and she had a really Gothic look about her. Long, jet black hair, thickly lined eyes and she always wore...really unflattering, or sometimes downright strange clothing. But Grace insisted on keeping her with them, and she stayed in hotels to take care of Cadence while the four of us went out and did our thing. Piri had managed to keep Cadence alive, though, and according to Grace, Piri had been working for her for five years now. So, I supposed she could be semi-trusted. I didn't, however, like the bond that she and Sam had. The first day they met, Sam seemed to open up to her, treat her warmly, like he'd known her forever. And after they'd known one another for a couple of nights, apparently, they shared their biggest secrets and were the best of friends. But I didn't trust her.

Dean had revealed to Sam and I that...Sam was chosen for—something by the demon with the yellow eyes. And if the time came that Sam turned evil, Dean would have to kill him. He'd also suggested a vacation—a suggestion which Sam automatically shot down. I had spent a lot of that night crying, mainly because Sam wouldn't talk to me. He went out for a walk. With Piri. And probably spilled his guts to her. And probably got me back for being with Dean. And it was making me sick. I tried to pull my mind from that and brought it back to the less pressing matter of Cadence.

I leaned against the window of the Impala, and looked at Grace's '69 Mustang in the rear view mirror. I could see the two women talking, and swallowed hard, tapping Dean on the shoulder, since Sam was asleep. I had to know if Cadence was his. I don't know why, but it was bothering me. Dean looked up at the rear view and cast me a curious glance. "What's up, Page?" he asked me with a small smile. He'd been...really happy lately. And it was kind of nice. Happy Dean was a really big change from always depressed Dean.

I shrugged a shoulder and looked over it at Grace's car. "Um...Dean?" I asked. What was the best way to ask one of your dearest friends if they had a ten year old daughter? Too bad they didn't have a format for that. "You said you knew Grace up until you were, right?" I asked, watching as Dean nodded, and doing the math in my head. He was twenty-eight now. Meaning...it was entirely possible. I bit my lip and glanced over at Sam to make sure that he was still asleep. Sure, we'd almost lost our friendship over a secret kept between Dean and I, but this was obviously something Dean didn't want us to know. "Cadence...is she..."

Dean bit his lip and raised one hand to run through his hair. "Um...yeah. She is..." he whispered and looked at me nervously. "I didn't know she existed, but...Grace and I...I was eighteen when it happened, you know? Teenage hormones, or, well, just...Dean hormones..." he chuckled lightly. "But...let's just let it be, okay?"

I smiled and nodded my head, putting a hand on Dean's arm and leaning back against my seat. Dean had a daughter. "Well, maybe ten years late, but...congratulations..." I grinned at him. Dean grinned back and nodded his head, instead of saying a thank you. I leaned back and rested until we got to the hotel we were staying at. That...explained a lot. The fact that he had such a soft spot for Grace, and that he went weak whenever he saw Cadence. I sighed and shook my head. Still, that didn't explain Piri. What was it about her that I was so unsure of? She...was nice. She was really nice. Especially to Sam. She was excellent with Cadence. But...the walks that I always used to take with Sam? Were taken with Piri now. Had I been a jealous woman, I would have freaked out.

That night, at the hotel, Dean had decided to go stay with Grace, Piri and Cadence in their room, and...God, it was the first alone time Sam and I had been given in a...really long time. Sam was...really tired. I sighed and lay against his shoulder on the bed, glancing up at him. "Sam..."

He looked at me, exhaustion evident on his face. "What's up? You look...really upset."

I shrugged and ran a hand through my hair. "I don't know...it's really stupid. Um...swear to me you won't laugh?" I asked, and when Sam nodded his head, I bit my lip and thought through the best way to ask this. "What...is it that you find so trustworthy about that Piri girl?" I asked him, my cheeks automatically turning red. I felt horrible for...assuming the worst. But I kind of deserved it, and would not blame Sam if he had been with Piri nine-hundred times over by now.

Sam looked at me, an eyebrow raised. "Piri? She and I just...connect. We have a lot in common, and it's nice to have a friend like that. Don't get me wrong, Page. She's no you, y'know?" he said, and I smiled. "But...okay. I'm going to tell you what I find so trustworthy about her. You just...have to swear to me that it is between us...well, and Dean. Since I'm sure Grace told Dean," Last to know was a really shitty feeling, but I nodded and shrugged it off. It was probably something huge if I was the last to know. Sam kept talking. "Piri? Is like me. And Max—only not...confused like Max. She...has premonitions. And if she's in a jam, she can telekinetically move things. And...we talk about that..."

My eyes widened, and I felt like a tool for ever feeling like Sam and Piri had...something going. "So, that's why you and she had that talk on the day...you know..." I asked him, a relieved tone in my voice. "You were..."

Sam nodded and laughed a little. "Commiserating with someone who could relate. Nothing more. Piri is a really nice person," he told me. "She understands a lot of things. That night, she cut our walk short because she thought you might want to talk about what was going on. Maybe you and she should talk."

I shook my head and smiled, leaning up to kiss Sam softly. "No, no. I believe you. Let's just...get a little sleep, huh?" I asked him, rolling over in bed so that Sam was holding me from behind. I had been worried over Sam having a confidante, and it had been totally ridiculous of me, because Piri was just...someone for Sam to rely on. I apologized inwardly for all the (also inward) comments I'd made about her being a freak-girl and an Avril Lavigne wannabe. That had been a slight relapse of my high-school state of mind, and I hated myself for it. Sam needed someone else to confide in, anyway. And I trusted him more than I trusted myself, so the fact that it was a woman? Didn't make me insecure at all. I was Sam's destiny.

However, I didn't realize how soon I'd see how true that was.


	23. Before It's Too Late

Page was sitting on the back porch of the hotel we were staying at, talking to Grace about something or other. The two of them had started out as rivals. Both of them were trying to prove to Dean and I that they knew their stuff. Dean knew that Grace was knowledgeable, but Page kept trying to outdo her. And it sometimes got her into a bit of trouble. For example, a month or so ago, Piri and I had decided that we wanted to go searching for other people with powers like ours. Other 'chosen' kids if you will. We'd run into this girl, Ava, who also had our 'gift,' apparently. Ava said she'd had a dream of my death—of me getting blown to pieces, and though Piri said she didn't trust her, that she sensed something funny (and not in the good way) about her, we stuck around and the three of us tried to look for others like us. We went under attack while we were all together, and came to find out that Dean, Grace, Cadence and Page had been kidnapped. So, we split off from Ava and went to find our cohorts.

_Piri and I stood outside of the cabin, and Piri looked at me with a scowl on her face. "It's that Gordon bastard…" she said after she peered through the window. "The one who tried to offer you up to me, thinking I was a vampire…" she spat. She got that reaction a lot from other hunters, because she liked to dress in black, and had really pale white skin. But she wasn't a vampire, or even a Goth, 'I hate the world' type. Piri was nice, and happy. I remembered the incident, in question, too. He slit my wrist to 'tempt' Piri with my blood, and she had saved my life by advancing upon me and pretending to bite my neck, meanwhile grabbing my gun and turning it on Gordon. And Gordon ran off, the fucking chicken. But he seemed a little more confident this time. "He's up in Dean's face and Dean is…being Dean. We better hurry before he gets himself killed…"_

_I nodded and went for the door, opening it slowly, but Piri grabbed my arm to stop me. "Don't you remember Ava's vision?" she whispered to me, shaking her head 'no.' "We need to come up with a better way to do this. And I think I have it…" she smirked a little. "Give me your shoes," she smirked at me. I was sort of glad hat Piri had been there with me through this, because she was a much more rational thinker than I was, and I probably would have just bust through the door and gotten myself blown apart. She took my shoes and set them on the ground in front of her, then used her telekinesis to open a window. Her powers were a lot more advanced than mine or any of the others I'd met so far, aside from Max. But she only used them to help people, rather than hurt them. She levitated my shoes into the room, and carefully placed them beneath one of the tripwires—the farthest one. Then, she peered in the window and tripped one of the wires…then the second one, and looked at me. "Now…we go in and hide…" she said softly, tiptoeing around to the back door, and I followed, hiding behind a cabinet, pushing Piri behind me. _

_We watched Gordon walk into the room slowly, and look down at the floor where my shoes were, then nod. I reached into my belt and pulled a gun out, taking a careful step forward and aiming it at the back of his head, cocking it. "Drop the gun," I said forebodingly, as Piri simply stood in place, staring._

_Gordon chuckled lightly. "Shouldn't take your shoes off around here. You might get tetanus…"_

"_Put it down now!" I hollered this time, glowering at the bastard._

_He lowered the gun and put it on the floor. "How'd the you survive? Sacrifice the vampire girl, did you?" he asked with a smirk. _

_Piri chuckled. "Oh, no. Sorry to burst your bubble, Gordon, but I'm very much alive."_

"_No matter. You wouldn't shoot me, would you, Sammy? Because your brother and your girlfriend, they you're some kind of saint…" he chuckled lightly._

_I wanted to strangle him. So badly. But I wasn't about to let his words effect me to the point that I became what he wanted me to be. "Yeah?" I asked in a harsh, gruff tone. "Well, I wouldn't be so sure," I said, directing Piri into the other room to untie everyone, which she did._

_Gordon laughed a little. "See, that's what I said…" he turned around slowly, knocked the gun out of my hand and he kept hitting me, repetitively, until I hit the floor. "You're no better than the filthy things you hunt," he spat at me as I lay on the ground, raising his knife to kill me. But I wasn't having it. I had plenty to do before I died. I flipped him over onto his back and punched him in the face, twice, then reached over beside me for the rifle, aiming it for his head. "Do it. Do it! Show your friends and family the killer you really are, Sammy."_

_I paused. No, I didn't want to kill him. Not only because he would be right about me, but because the poor sap was so fucking confused about the way the world worked that…I wanted him to suffer. I turned the rifle over in my hands and hit him in the head with the butt, glowering at him the whole time. "It's Sam," I spat at him._

How did all of that lead back to Page and Grace's bickering, you ask? Well, Dean, Page and Grace had been staking out the place that Piri and I had been with Ava, and while the girls were supposed to play lookout, they'd wound up bickering back and forth about something. And had been too distracted to notice Gordon advancing on Dean. By the time they realized it, Dean was out cold, and Gordon was threatening to kill him, had they not listened and went along with what he said. So, Page and Grace's bickering? Got them, Dean and Cadence in trouble. Since that day, though? They'd sort of buried the hatchet. Not in one another's heads, either, which was a novel conundrum.

I sighed and leaned back against the headboard of the bed, watching as Page came back into the room. She was staring at me, and for a second, I was unnerved. But it faded quickly, and I patted the bed beside me. She walked over slowly, and took a seat, then looked at me. "Whatcha thinkin' about?" she asked me casually, smiling as she took a seat.

I chuckled and shrugged my shoulders. "When Gordon took you, Dean, Grace and Cadence…" I frowned.

Page frowned for a second, but it turned to a smile and she looked at me playfully. "You know…I never told Piri thank you…for stopping you from rushing into the room like a that day," she smirked a little.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Madman?" I asked, as the two of us lay back against the bed. "I'd hardly call that…madman-esque. My brother, his…whatever he and Grace are, Grace's daughter and my best friend were in trouble," I scoffed at her and ran a hand through my hair. "So, pardon me for being a little emotional about it."

She chuckled a little. "Well, you weren't that bad. But, you would have been wouldn't you?" she asked. "Had Piri not been all rational and thought of a plan to get the two of you in without…blowing you to smithereens?" she stuck her tongue out.

I rolled her over onto her back and glared at her, laying atop her. "I'll have you know, I am the king of rationality!" I huffed, sticking my tongue out at her.

She laughed aloud. "Right. You. King of rationality. That's a laugh!" she stuck her tongue out again and wiggled beneath me. "Mr. 'Cadence asked me for a new Barbie doll and we only have enough money in the money jar for three weeks, so I'll buy it anyway and go run another pool hall scam tonight.' You're about as rational as…"

I cut her off with my lips, splitting them with my tongue and feeling her body melt into the kiss. When we broke free for air, I simply stared at her. "Hey. You say no to that face!" I dared her, grinning a little. "When she gives you those little puppy dog eyes? You'd swear she was Dean's kid. I swear to you, he used to do the same—what?" I asked her, noticing that she was about to burst with…something. What, I wasn't quite sure.

"Nothing, Sam," she shook her head and smiled at me, pulling my head back down, closer to hers for another kiss. This kiss was different. Deeper and hungrier. I think…maybe, we would have done something more that night, had Cadence not bust through the door with that same look I'd described on her face. I leapt off Page like she was on fire, since Cadence was way too young to see anything like…what was about to happen.

She rushed up to the side of the bed and smiled at me. "Sammy? Page? Can Piri and me stay in here tonight? Mommy and Da—er, Dean want some time alone to talk…" she begged me,

Page nodded her head and smiled. "Sure. Go get Piri."

I raised an eyebrow. Da—er, Dean? Da? Was she going to call Dean…I shrugged it off. I watched as Cadence ran out of the room, and glanced at Page. "It sounded like she was going to call Dean…Daddy. She already thinks of him as a daddy? That's…so awesome…" I smirked. Cadence thought of Dean as a father. And she'd only known him for a couple of weeks. It was absolutely precious.

Page chuckled a little and leaned her head back against the pillow. "I know…" she simply said, waiting for me to join her against the pillow. I did, and watched as Cadence and Piri came back into the room, crawling into the bed next to Page and I. It was almost like the fates were teaming up against Page and I. Like we weren't supposed to have sex. I smiled at Piri as she climbed into the bed with Cadence, and smiled at her as she flashed us an apologetic glance. It wasn't her fault that Dean and Grace needed sexy time. I smiled as if to tell her that it was no big deal, and lay against the pillow.

I sighed. Page and I had been through complete and utter hell together. Our friendship was the strongest I had ever seen. We'd survived high school, Jess' death, the deaths of Page's families, me telling her the truth about my life, her sleeping with Dean…we'd survived practically anything there was for a friendship to survive. So, I was sure we'd see many more chances to be with one another…


	24. Hundred

Dean was shouting. "Sam, Sam, Sam. Hey, hey... Come here, come here, let me look at you..." he said in a hopeful tone. "Oh, hey look, hey look at me it's not even that bad. It's not even that bad, alright? Sammy, Sam! Hey, listen to me, we are going to patch you up, okay..." he promised. "You'll be as good as new. Huh?" he grabbed Sam's chin and steered his face to look at him. And I saw…his eyes wouldn't focus. And there was blood dripping from his mouth. "I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to take care of you. I gotcha. It's my job, right, watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother..." he smirked, and I smiled, too. Because it was true. Everything would be okay. "Sam...Sam. Sam! Sammy!" he shouted. But…Sam's head drooped onto his shoulder. "No.. no-n-n-n-n-no. Oh god...oh god...Sam!" Dean clutched tightly to Sam.

I think, in that second, my heart stopped. I knelt next to Dean as Sam lay lifeless in his arms, and…God, he wasn't…moving. Or breathing. I don't think I could breathe in that second, either. I tried to grasp the situation. Bobby and Grace had taken off in a run after that Jake motherfucker, and Piri was standing with Cadence, trying to stop her from crying. But Piri was crying too. This wasn't real. This…wasn't happening. It couldn't be. I watched the blood from Sam's mouth drip onto Dean's shirt, and…no. No, it was not happening. It was not real. This wasn't real. "This isn't REAL!" I screamed, and grabbed onto Sam's arm, joining Dean in trying to snap him out of it. "S—Sam, snap out of it, baby. Sam, come on. You…you're gonna be okay. I know you are. You…you can come out of this. You can…" I looked at Dean, who was simply crying against his shoulder. He'd given up. He'd given up on Sam. That was…not Dean. It wasn't. I felt my breath shallowing. Sam…wasn't breathing. His head was limp against Dean's shoulder. He…was dead. Sam was dead. My lifelong best friend. Was dead. Gone. Forever. There was…Sam was gone. My Sam. I put my face in my hands and screamed at the top of my lungs, before breaking down in sobs.

I must have sat there for five minutes, just crying, when I felt Grace's hand touch my arm. "Page…come on. We're all gonna go into that house over there, okay?" she asked, her voice filled with sensitivity, and numbly, I stood up and followed her. I couldn't bring a thought from my brain to my mouth, so I stayed silent, and sat in a chair next to the table, watching as Dean lay Sam's body in the next room over. Bobby took Cadence and Piri back into town, probably to stay at the Salvage Yard for the night. But Dean and I refused to be moved. And Grace stayed too. Neither Dean nor I slept a wink that night, and when Bobby came back the next morning and tried to get us to bury Sam's body, we both exploded on him like a ticking time bomb. Bobby had told Grace that Cadence needed her back at the Salvage Yard, and she went, hesitantly, leaving Dean and I alone.

I didn't have too much to say. I simply sat at the table, staring at Sam's body, trying to gather any type of coherent thought. But there was nothing. So, I just listened to what Dean was saying, as he spoke to Sam's lifeless body. "You know, when we were little—you couldn't been more than five—you just started asking questions…" he had tears in his eyes. Dean with tears…God, I swear there was nothing so powerful in the world. "How come we didn't have a mom? Why do we always have to move around? Where'd Dad go when he'd take off for days at a time? I remember I begged you—'Quit asking, Sammy. Man, you don't want to know.'" He let out a halfhearted chuckle. "I just wanted you to be a kid...just for a little while longer. I always tried to protect you...keep you safe...Dad didn't even need to tell me..." he shook his head and brushed a hand over his hair. "It was just always my responsibility, you know? It's like I had one job...I had one job..." he paused, the tears on his cheeks not relenting. "And I screwed it up. I blew it. And for that, I'm sorry," he paused to wipe his tears. "I guess that's what I do. I let down the people I love. I let Dad down. And now I guess I'm just supposed to let you down, too. How can I? How am I supposed to live with that?" he looked at me, as though I had the answers. "What am I supposed to do?" he glanced back at Sam's body. "Sammy. God. What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?!"

I sobbed into my hands, for at least five minutes. Then, I felt Dean's hand on my shoulder. "Page. Can you promise me something?" he asked. I nodded emptily, though I wasn't sure if I could promise anyone anything at that point in time. "Take care of Sammy…" he said, and I looked at him blankly. What did he mean? He wanted ME to take care of…no. No way. I opened my mouth to object. "I'm gonna bring him back. Just…promise me you'll take care of him, okay?" he asked, and I nodded my head. "Good," he said, then walked out of the room.

I looked at Sam for a second, then…a realization dawned on me. I remembered a couple of months ago, when a demon had been taunting Dean to make a deal to bring his father back. Dean was going to—no. No, he had his daughter to think of. I had to stop him. But…I knew he wasn't going to just roll over and stop. So, I grabbed a small metal bar from the floor, put it in behind my belt. I rushed out of the house. "Dean, no…" I stopped him as he was getting into the Impala, grabbing his arm and turning him around. "No, okay? I can't let you do this. Cadence and Grace—"

"Have done a fine job so far without me," he said simply.

I shook my head. "No, Dean. No. You can't. You can't, okay? Just…no. I won't let you."

He laughed a little bit. "Page, he's my brother, okay? He's my responsibility. You promised you'd take care of him so…"

I shook my head again. "NO!" I hollered, batting the car keys from Dean's hand. "No! I WON'T LET YOU! I can't. Sam would hate me for it…" I shouted at him.

Dean was about to open his mouth to object, but I took the metal bar from behind my back and hit him as hard as I could, before he could say anything else. I leaned down and put a hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry, Dean. I really am. I know you want to be the hero here…" I whispered to his unconscious form. "But…it's my turn. Take care of Sam for me…"

I walked back into the cabin quickly, holding Dean's keys in my hand, so he couldn't get anywhere without me, I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. To say my goodbyes, just in case I couldn't get a good deal with the demon.

'Sam,' I started. 'I don't know where to begin this, except to say that I love you, and that is why I…have to say goodbye. You were always the only one for me, no matter what happened. Tell Dean that I'm sorry…he'll know what for, and tell Piri that I'm sorry, too. For misjudging her and for treating her badly. Give Cadence that blue teddy of mine that she loves so much, too, okay? And…tell Grace that I said thank you for being a good friend. I love you, Sam Winchester. Your life is of more value to this world than mine. That I know for sure…' I had tears in my eyes, and I saw one of them hit the paper. 'Don't blame you for this, okay? And…get that bastard Jake. Yours always, Page.'

I picked up the note and walked out to Dean, setting it on his chest, then got into the Impala. I drove, putting on one of Sam's tapes that he'd brought along, that Dean always said 'no' to. If there was a chance that this could be my last hoorah? I wanted to go out with a good song in my head. 'Hundred' by the Fray? I laughed, since Sam had hated this song until I had told him I loved it. I turned it all the way up and sang along, until I came to an intersection. I stopped the Impala and took a small box from inside the dash, grabbing my ID, and the rest of the needed items to summon the demon I needed, then buried them underground.

A few seconds passed, and nothing happened. "Come on, come on…where in the hell are you?" I hollered to no one.

"You know, I don't normally kiss girls…" I heard a female voice coming from behind me.

I jumped and turned around. "Jesus Christ…" I whispered.

"Well, Page. Not who I expected to see, I'll be totally honest with you," she said, taking a couple steps closer to me. "But I can't say I'm disappointed…"

I bit my lip. "Give me…five years…" I told her. "Just five years and—"

She laughed a little and shook her head. "Page. If it had been Dean? I would have given him time. But your soul? Is worthless to me. No time, or no deal."

"None?" I asked, staring at her with a hopeless look on my face. "But…I…I want to say goodbye. Please…" I felt my hands closing. "I…"

She laughed at me. "Honey, I'm a demon. Your pouty face isn't going to work on me. Just make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint…" she started to walk away.

I held a hand out. "WAIT! Wait. Okay, okay, I'll do it! I…" I watched her turn around and walk toward me, smirking a little.

"Last chance to change your mind…" she said, bringing her face close to mine, and though the thought crossed my mind, I couldn't do it. Sam could do…so much more than I could if he were alive. Her lips hit mine, and I felt—oh my god, the pain. I felt my knees starting to buckle, and my muscles tightened, but my body was sinking to the ground. Thoughts of Sam ran through my mind, like the first time we kissed, and all the times we kissed after that…like his smile and his laugh, and his touch and…him, and…the last thing that went through my mind before I fell into a pool of blackness was that there was no way in hell (literally) that I would regret this. Ever. I loved Sam Winchester, and wanted him to live a full life, even if it meant I didn't get to anymore. _I love you, Sam…_I thought before I stopped feeling anything.


	25. Whisper

Piri's POV

I had always been impartial to death. Well, not impartial, because it was an emotional experience, but I guess the word I was looking for was...well, no impartial really was the word. I'd been too young to remember when my mom and dad died, and too abused to care when my foster parents died. That didn't mean that I was willing to bring it upon anyone. Or that I'd ever be happy when someone died. But I'd never, ever imagined that I'd have the reaction I did when Sam Winchester died. I was a wreck. Sam was probably the closest friend I'd ever had in my life. Even closer than Grace. Because I trusted him enough to TELL him my secret, rather than having him find out by seeing me do something. The only person (aside from Grace, Dean and Cadence) not to judge me for the way I looked. He got to know me. To the point where I would confide my secret in him. And it turned out, he was the same way. I'd just...known for longer. I'd known about my powers since I was sixteen years old. But I didn't abuse them, and now I'm glad I hadn't.

We'd been dragged into a death trap by the demon with the yellow eyes, all of the chosen ones. Myself, Sam, Ava, Andy, Lily and Jake. And he had the rest of them kill one another off, one by one. Lily first, then Andy, then Ava. God, Ava. I had known from the second I saw her that she wasn't to be trusted. I couldn't stand the look on her face. Now I knew why. God, that ordeal. Only one of us were supposed to come out alive, but Jake, the bastard, had run off and escaped, so there were two of us. Meaning Jake was probably going to hunt me down. But I didn't care. I really didn't. Sam was dead. And everyone was going to blame me. Not that I could fault them. Because I blamed myself. I leaned my head against the passenger's side window of the Mustang and stared at nothing, but had to brace myself quickly when Grace screeched to a halt quickly. I looked over at her, a confused look on my face, and followed her gaze to see...Dean?

Grace leapt from her seat and rushed to his side. "Dean? De—oh, thank God, he's still breathing..." she whispered, and looked to a note on his chest. "What...is this?" she asked, taking the piece of paper. "It's addressed to Sam..." she said, and started reading. "Sam, I don't know where to begin this, except to say that I love you, and that is why I…have to say goodbye. You were always the only one for me, no matter what happened. Tell Dean that I'm sorry…he'll know what for, and tell Piri that I'm sorry, too. For misjudging her and for treating her badly. Give Cadence that blue teddy of mine that she loves so much, too, okay? And…tell Grace that I said thank you for being a good friend. I love you, Sam Winchester. Your life is of more value to this world than mine. That I know for sure. Don't blame you for this, okay? And…get that bastard Jake. Yours always, Page."

I frowned. Page had...wait. Wait. My eyes widened, and I rushed into the cabin, just in time to see Sam gasp for a breath and sit up straight. I felt tears coming to my eyes, and I turned to look at Grace and Cadence, who were huddled over Dean, trying to wake him up. I turned my glance back toward Sam, and my heart filled up. Oh God. He was alive. Sam was alive because Page had—oh. Oh no. Page had...Sam was going to be absolutely...crushed. I wasn't sure if I wanted to run up to him and hug him or...just stand there. But I decided on a comfortable median, and walked up to him, kneeling in front of him. "Sam? Is it...is it really you?" I asked, putting a hand on his face and looking into his eyes. "Really-really?" I asked, just looking at him.

He looked at me, confusion all over his face like a tattoo. "Um...yeah. What happened? Last thing I remember is getting out of that hell, and hugging Dean. And...Jake...Jake stabbed me, didn't he?" he reached a hand around, but winced in pain when the muscles stretched. "Ah! Oh...fuck..."

I swallowed hard and nodded my head. "Y—yeah. Jake stabbed you...um..." I wasn't sure how to say this, but I didn't get a chance to, because Dean bust through the door and rushed up to Sam, simply hugging him. I bit my lip and backed off, turning toward Grace and Cadence, and approaching them slowly, turning to Grace and bursting out in tears against her shoulder. I didn't cry. For twenty-four years, I had not cried. But Sam Winchester had reduced me to tears twice in one day. I felt Grace hug me, and I shuddered against her shoulder.

"Where's Page?" I heard Sam ask, and my heart sank even more. Which one of us was going to tell him that the love of his life had traded her soul for his life? Dean looked over toward Grace, Cadence and I, and frowned. I don't think he was going to tell Sam, but...someone had to. God, the poor guy deserved to know that the love of his life was dead. As though in that glance, the three of us were deciding who was going to be the one to tell Sam that Page was gone. Sam spoke up. "What's wrong? Is Page okay?"

I closed my eyes and stepped forward. I nodded toward the door, telling Dean and Grace without words that I would handle it. The two took Cadence out to the Mustang, and I showed Sam a sad, sympathetic gaze. Words. God, I usually had a million of them, being a poet. But, this time, they just...escaped me. "Sam..." I started. Good start. Make sure he knew I was talking to him. He looked at me, worry and confusion on his face, and I took a deep breath. "Page...um..." I sorted out my thoughts a little more. "Um...when Jake stabbed you? Um..." I stopped and tried to think. I NEVER used the word 'um,' but I suppose this was...extenuating circumstances. I swallowed hard and looked out the window, to see Cadence, Dean and Grace sharing a hug. I looked back at Sam. Into his eyes. He needed to know this. "Sam, when Jake stabbed you? He...uh, he severed your spinal column. You were...you were dead."

Sam's eyes widened. "But...I shouldn't be...oh God. Oh God. Page?" he pushed past me and rushed to the door, throwing it open and looking past Dean, Grace and Cadence...past Bobby, who was just pulling in...out at nothing. "PAGE?" he shouted. "PAGE! WHERE ARE YOU? THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" he shouted. I walked up behind him, and he whirled around and stared at me, doe eyed. "Wh—where is she? Where is Page?"

I was about to answer, when I heard Bobby speak up. "Sam? What..." he looked over all of us, and his eyes widened. "Oh, God, Page. I saw the Impala about three miles from here and I was wondering what it was about but..."

I saw Sam's eyes fill with tears, and he rushed over to the Mustang. The four of us piled into Grace's Mustang, without being told to, and we followed behind Bobby, in absolute silence. I sat on the other side of Cadence, opposite Sam, and reached a hand around behind Cadence to touch his arm. He looked at me, tears playing at the corners of his eyes, and I mimicked his expression. I watched helplessly as the Mustang pulled up next to the Impala, and Sam practically broke the door, flinging it open. I had just opened the door when I saw Sam's body shudder, and watched him fall to his knees. I walked around the Impala slowly, and practically choked on my tears when I saw Page's body, just laying there. She was still...beautiful. And Sam was just speechless. Which I couldn't blame him for. I was speechless when I thought that he was...dead. I knelt down beside him, my face streaked with tears, too. I put a hand on his shoulder and watched as he turned toward me slowly. He swallowed hard and pulled me to him, burying his face in my shoulder and breaking down in tears.

I tried to think of words, but I don't think I needed to say any, because Sam seemed to just want to...sit there. And I was just find with simply holding him. Anything to make the pain seem...less all consuming. I didn't know how I could make him hurt less, though, when I was hurting, too. I glanced up to see Dean walking up behind Sam, and when Sam turned to Dean, I took a step back and stared down at Page. God, I was being so selfish. Me, me, me. This was not my time. It was Sam. He needed me to be there for him. Needed me to not freak out. I listened to him as he cried in Dean's shoulder, telling Dean that he loved her. That he never told her that he loved her. That he didn't want to live without her. But, with Page laying in front of me, with no life left in her, I put my face in my hands and sobbed. That is, until I felt Cadence pull on my pant leg, and I glanced up to see she and Grace standing before me. I leaned forward into Grace's shoulder. "This—this is my fault, Grace. I..."

Grace shook her head and ran a hand through my hair. "Piri, no. This is not your fault, okay?" she told me softly, glancing over at Sam and Dean. "What we have to do? Is...get Jake. This is his fault. We have to make him pay, okay, Piri? Just listen to me..." she pulled me out of the hug, and I looked down at Cadence, who had moved over to Sam and Dean, trying to calm them both down a little. "We're going to end Jake, okay? He tried to kill Sam. And he..." she frowned and looked at Bobby, who was moving Page's body now. "We have to find him."

I nodded and walked over to Sam, watching as Dean took a couple steps away, toward Grace. He was staring at Bobby as he pulled Page's body over toward a ditch. Sam closed his eyes and looked down. I bit my lip, then put a hand on his arm. Sam looked at me and tried to stop himself from crying. "I...what am I supposed to do, Piri?" he asked me, his lower lip quivering. The poor man...had lost everything he'd ever cared about. What were you supposed to say?

I squeezed his arm and bit my lip. "I...don't know, Sam. I'm...sorry. Maybe we should go after Jake. Try and...find him. He..." I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say, "...needs to pay," I finished. But I knew, in that moment that I wanted to learn to hunt these demon bastards, to avenge Page's death and help Sam feel again. I wasn't sure what we would do about Cadence, where she would stay. But we would figure it out. Maybe Ellen could care for her. Because there was no way that I was going to sit idly by and watch my friends suffer. I let go of Sam's arm, and walked up to Grace and Dean, who looked at me, at the determination on my face and exchange confused glances. I bit my lower lip and looked at them, and my next words came out as a command.

"Teach me to hunt."

* * *

And this, my friends, is where your votes come in. Should I continue along with Sam for part two, and further his story, or take a break from Sam and go on to Dean/Grace? I'm thinking Sam, for continuity's sake, and work on Dean/Grace after. But I leave that up to you guys. 

Should part two be:  
-Sam  
-Dean/Grace


	26. Addendum

As an addendum, for all of you who voted, so you all know, the next part will be 25 chapters of Dean fic. He won the vote by one vote. And as much as I wish I could write the next 25 chapter about Sam? Dean has decided that he wants to nestle into my brain. I already have 18 chapters all planned out. So, I hope you enjoy what I have on the way. Chapter One of 'Then to Now, Dean and Grace's Story Part One' will be posted in a few minutes. And over the next 25 chapters, I think a lot of questions as to the Dean/Grace storyline will be answered. 


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